Volatile
by mistress amethyst une
Summary: Another one for SV and Coco. Janeway's refusal to admit she's ill forces Chakotay to take action. Will she resent him for it? He thinks so. Really thinks so.
1. Ambizine Coffee

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY needs someone to take it away from TPTB. Sadly, that won't be me since I don't own any of it.

**Dedication:** For SV and Coco. Yes, again. Let's hope this one's better.

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 1: Ambizine Coffee**

On the bridge, the captain wheezed and coughed. Once in awhile, she'd attempt to bark out an order, and the unfortunate crewman she was speaking to would do his best to follow the almost whispered command. She did her best to stand but it was apparent that she was having difficulties getting to her feet, let alone maintaining the position on her high-heeled boots. When she finally did manage to get out of her seat, she nearly toppled to the floor. Chakotay immediately rose to catch her. Being so close to her, he clearly heard the crackly rasp that had once been her voice cursing the inertial dampeners. He shook his head. She wasn't even going to admit to being ill.

Depositing her back into her command chair, he could feel her glare on him. They definitely needed to talk later.

Without further mishap, the shift ended. Kathryn remained seated in her command chair. She would sooner take an extra shift than admit that her head was spinning, and that she was almost too weak to get on her feet. Chakotay held his hand out to her, making it look like a friendly gesture rather than what it really was: an act of pity. If anyone knew how bad her condition was, it was most probably Chakotay. Yes, the same Chakotay who clucked like a mother hen while she went about her ready room like a chicken with its head cut off, who scolded her about caffeine intake even when she was on her first cup of the day, who looked at her with disapproval whenever he caught her in the Mess Hall at 0300 hours drowning herself in reports. The very same man who was now looking at her with immense...disapproval was definitely an understatement for that expression.

She took his hand, hoping this small act of surrender would help her avoid a scolding. She wasn't sick. She just felt a bit weak. That was it. Lethargy wasn't unusual in their profession. So what if she'd lost her voice? It was sure to come back soon enough. Her chest ached a bit with each little cough but it was nothing really. Oh sure, she'd spent most of the shift being disgusted with herself for swallowing her own phlegm. What could she do? It would be unbecoming to spit on the bridge. And she couldn't exactly excuse herself with her legs suddenly acting like two useless tentacles with no water to propel them...

"Ready room," she rasped, as she got up with his help. She put immense effort in focusing her strength on her legs, doing her best not to use him as a crutch even as she found her arm in his. To an onlooker, it would have looked like the captain was really cozying up to her first officer. In reality, she was trying her best not to fall on him as they walked.

The ready room doors hissed open. She pointed to her replicator. Upon reaching it, she tried to order coffee and cordrazine. Chakotay was amused to note that it wouldn't take her voice commands. Her voice was so unintelligible that even the computer's universal translator couldn't make heads or tails of it. Despite her mouthed protests, he deposited her on the couch. Even if he knew the coffee would be bad for her, he replicated her a cup and took it out of his own alloted rations. Decaffeinated, of course. He was going to indulge her vice but not to her own detriment. He didn't replicate her any cordrazine. What was she thinking? Twenty milligrams of cordrazine was enough to revive the dead. And in tandem with the caffeine fix she had intended to gulp down...she wasn't thinking clearly, that was for sure. He didn't turn from the replicator even as the coffee shimmered into existence. She would hate him for this.

"Ten milligrams of ambizine, diluted," he whispered.

The tiny sealed test tube materialized next to the coffee. He immediately opened it and dumped the contents into the hot black beverage. She would sleep for a good long time, and he was beaming her to Sickbay while she was incapacitated. She could throw him in the brig for this later. He knew this needed to be done. If he didn't intercede now, he'd regret it. The cordrazine she'd just tried to replicate was enough of a warning bell.

He pocketed the empty test tube and approached her with the coffee. He felt strange drugging her like this but it was essential to her well-being. She looked at him and smiled weakly, taking the mug from him. So trusting...

"Just drink it, Kathryn," he mentally urged. "Drink before I change my mind and knock it out of your hands."

She drank deeply. The effect of the ambizine was immediate. Her eyes snapped shut and the mug slipped from her hands, staining her uniform with the remaining coffee as it hit the carpeted floor. She didn't even respond to the hot liquid hitting her. He ordered a site-to-site transport to Sickbay. She was going to hate him. Really hate him...

* * *

Yes, I'm aware this wasn't the plot bunny we discussed SV. Who knows? Might drift to that soon enough. My mind loves to change... :)


	2. Sickbay Stopover

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY is not mine. Not yet. xD

**Author's Note: **SV, I owe you this chapter before you-know-what. Finished it as sis slumbered. I will finish this for you. ;)

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 2: Sickbay Stopover**

They materialized in Sickbay. He stood over her as she lay face down on the sterile floor. Well, he hoped it was sterile. Damn, he should have carried her during the beam out.

Picking her up, he took note of the warmth emanating from her body. He hadn't noticed how feverish she was when he'd been helping her get to the ready room. Probably because he was too busy concentrating on propping her up as they sauntered in.

Depositing her on a biobed, he saw the doctor approaching. He hoped the EMH wouldn't ask too many questions. There weren't many ways he could explain a feverish, unconscious, coffee-stained captain with ambizine in her system. And of the few ways he could think of to explain, all of them involved getting him into trouble.

Chakotay gestured to the biobed.

"How the mighty have fallen," remarked the hologram, exasperation apparent. "Tricorder."

Chakotay handed the doctor the medical tool he requested. As the EMH conducted the examination, the commander couldn't help but hover over the proceedings. It took an intense glare from the hologram to make him back off.

"Well, aside from this particularly ferocious cold, there's ambizine in her system. Caffeine levels are...remarkably lower than expected."

Chakotay found the urge to tug on his ear irrepressible. The doctor gave him an appraising look.

"You had something to do with this, Commander. Tell me exactly how this happened."

"Do you really need to know?"

"I'm a medical professional. I need all the information I can get."

"She was sick and you know her aversion for Sickbay."

"Legendary aversion. Go on."

"She wouldn't have come here otherwise. I wasn't going to do anything, let her wear herself out. But then she wanted to mix cordrazine into her coffee. So I stopped her..."

"Excellent intervention then," remarked the doctor as he busied himself with a hypospray. "I understand perfectly the need to keep her from mixing stimulants. The combination of cordrazine and caffeine would have given her quite an energy boost. It's an old secret of students from the academy, often used during cram sessions, or so Mister Kim told me when he was brought in with heart palpitations the one time he was to serve double shifts due to a lost bet with Mister Paris. Quite a self-diagnosis she made. Aside from turning her into a human whirlwind, it could have also sent her into cardiac arrest. How exactly did you drug her?"

"Ambizine in her decaf. It was a neccessary evil."

"There's still traces of caffeine in decaffeinated coffee. I'm amazed it didn't counteract the ambizine. How much did you give her?"

"I don't remember."

He lied.

Chakotay hadn't been the best biochemistry student in the academy. Still, he was quite sure he remembered the proper dosage for ambizine. Ten milligrams was the best dosage for that sedative. No...wait. Ten? Wasn't that for improvoline? And then there were those height and weight factors when it came to dispensing amounts...Kathryn was a rather small woman. Did he give her too much? Suddenly, he felt a great sense of trepidation. Could he have caused her to overdose? Is that why it worked despite the coffee?

The doctor eyed him with suspicion. "I was just wondering...because ambizine is a rather strong sedative. More than five milligrams and it's almost impossible to wake the patient."

The commander gulped, his legs turning to jelly. "I gave her ten," he blurted.

The doctor gave a satisfied smile. "Then she'll be perfectly fine. Ten milligrams is the best dosage for ambizine. Must have worked despite the caffeine because of the captain's diminutive size and her exhaustion."

"But you said-"

"I lied, too. And I thought you weren't easily fooled, Commander."

Chakotay wondered if a hologram could be asphyxiated. The doctor certainly needed someone to let all the hot air out of him. Damn smug-

"Shall I wake her?" the doctor asked, flooding Chakotay with a fresh surge of uneasiness. "It's not good for her to have ambizine in her sytem with her being so ill. Could compromise her immune system further, one of the side effects. We need to counteract it."

"Will you relieve her of duty?"

The commander had opted to reply with a question to buy himself some time. He knew very well that he would incur his captain's wrath the moment her eyes opened. Time to think...how would he explain himself to her?

"Of course," replied the doctor as he prepped a hypospray to awaken Janeway. "For no less than three days judging by how her condition would have steadily worsened had you not intervened..."

The EMH brought the hypospray to Kathryn's neck. "Now, Commander?"

"Wait...can't you cure her before waking her? Not relieve her of duty? It would be best for all parties involved-"

"I'll treat any injuries you sustain should the captain see fit to use violence against you. Besides, I'm sure Commander Tuvok will see to your safety."

The Doctor's joke was enough to drain the blood from Chakotay's face.

"Commander, relax. I'm sure the captain isn't going to...overreact. She's a perfectly rational woman with a good head on her shoulders. She won't mind being relieved of duty for three days knowing it will increase her efficiency on the job. As much as I wish that a way to cure her before bringing her back into the waking world existed, there simply isn't any substitute for bed rest and plenty of fluids. May I please wake my patient now?"

It took Chakotay a full minute to nod. During that one minute, he thought of his life of late. It had been a happy life, a very happy life, a life that would end the moment the hiss of a hypospray against Kathryn Janeway's neck awakened her as his executioner.

Commander Chakotay of the USS Voyager was a dead man.

* * *

That's it for now. Hope you liked it. I'm not too good with Doctor-Chak convos.


	3. Sleeping Dragon

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine. What is mine? A place where you can get coal, I think.

**Author's Note: **Written while listening to a Swedish song about dancing and caramel. No idea what any of it meant but it produced this. And I haven't forgotten about your story, Lita. Just ran into a few stumbling blocks but I swear I'll finish. :)

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 3: Sleeping Dragon**

"I'll leave you to speak privately," stated the doctor, who promptly retreated to his office.

The hologram was smart, swiftly avoiding any chance of getting caught in the crossfire. Chakotay took a deep breath as Kathryn slowly opened her eyes. She was awfully attractive asleep, so still and calm, a far cry from the blur that was usually running all over the ship. It was a pity he hadn't been able to appreciate it, having had to be wracked with nervousness about the consequences of drugging her.

Despite her beauty, he was quite sure that she was not a sleeping princess that needed rescuing. No, she was more like a slumbering dragon that needed to be left in peace. To be precise, she was a sick dragon who might have wrought havoc on itself and everyone around it had he not tranquilized it for its own good. Great, he was using strange analogies now. Was that how he intended to explain himself to her? He could imagine it now: "Let me tell you a story. There once was a sick female dragon, a very pretty dragon, definitely not a fat dragon..."

He shook his head. That was definitely a far cry from an ancient legend. He wouldn't blame her for tossing him out an airlock for that.

She uttered something garbled. He didn't understand the first words out of her mouth, her voice still a rasp. He was quite sure she had no idea how she'd ended up in Sickbay. Would it be so wrong to want to keep it that way? No, that would be wrong. She had to know. Damned trust and honesty!

He swallowed, observing her for any hostility. Those eyes of hers weren't glaring, weren't even fully open. She wasn't back to her senses yet. Maybe she would be more understanding if he spoke now. Straight to the point, he'd confess his crime before she could rationally commit an act of violence against him.

Clearing his throat, he prepared to speak the words that might effectively sign his death warrant.

"Nice to see you're awake, Captain."

She mouthed his name, looking like a pitiful mess that wanted nothing more than to surrender to sleep again. The stimulant the doctor had just given her was preventing that though, slowly easing her back into wakefulness and making her aware once more of the pain that came with her malady, the unresolved exhaustion. Gulping, he launched into as quick an explanation of his actions as he could muster.

She stared at him blankly through half-lidded eyes, unable to really pay attention to anything he was saying. She was far too busy trying desperately to resist the chemicals that compelled her to awaken. She found that she couldn't, the sensation of being shaken awake by some unseen force rocking her body violently. Shaken...no, she wasn't being shaken. The force was coming from her chest, moving up her throat, turning into a disgustingly thick, slimy liquid in her mouth. She was coughing! Coughing quite voraciously, actually. She found herself unable to stop the deluge bubbling up in her throat. And then she found herself choking...choking on her own phlegm. She needed to sit up! She mouthed his name as she choked, wondering if her last thought would be, "Chakotay, you idiot! Stop blabbering and prop me up!"

Thankfully, he noticed her plight. Clumsily, he helped her sit up, stroking her back and mumbling panicked apologies. She promptly spilled the contents of her mouth all over him as a gesture of gratitude.

"I guess I deserved that," she heard him say.

She placed her head against his chest, coughing a few more times for good measure. His uniform was definitely ruined now. Well, he did say he deserved it. Deserved it for what reason? She didn't care. Probably something she'd want to throttle him for once she was back in the right state of mind.

In between coughs, she took in her surroundings. Sickbay? How'd she end up in Sickbay? She dug through her memories amidst a massive headache. She remembered her shift ending, having him help her into her ready room. And then? She'd tried to replicate the good old cordrazine and coffee combo to get her back on her feet, banish her tiredness. Stupid replicator wouldn't take her voice commands, and he'd gone and dumped her on the couch when he saw how flustered she was getting. Yes, she remembered. He'd brought her coffee. And she drank, and then...

She was here. With wet uniform trousers...did she wet herself? No...there was a smell to it. Familiar yet faint. No, she knew that smell anywhere. Even with a clogged nose, thst scent was unmistakable. That wasn't the pungency of urine. That was...

"Coffee," she rasped. "You..."

Another violent fit of coughing seized her. She used this as an opportunity to get back at him, and aimed for his face. Even in this state, she'd figured out what he'd done. Spilled coffee, blacking out with the last memory of consciouness being that of sipping the coffee he'd replicated for her...it didn't take a genius to figure it out. What gave him the right to drug her? If only she had the voice to chew him out...he was going to pay for this.

He wasn't the least bit surprised when the thick, warm mixture of phlegm and spittle hit his face. It was then that Chakotay knew there was no further need to explain himself. She knew, and she was going to kill him.

Wiping his face on his sleeve, he observed the doctor coming out to see if the coast was clear.

"I can see that she's fully awake," remarked the EMH, his smile sickeningly amused. "Could you escort her back to her quarters, Commander?"

Chakotay made a mental note to ask Tom how to program a virus into their chief medical officer.

* * *

One day to grades release. Wish me luck. I will definitely lose access to a computer if I flunk math... :(


	4. War and Peace

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine. Currently, I am the proud owner of a fresh heap of frustration courtesy of a delay in the release of my grades.

**Author's Note: **Yes, xkawaiix, it was Caramelldansen. :) To be specific, the Speedycake remix. Actually, listened to it again while straightening this out.

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 4: War and Peace**

"And don't forget to pick up her medication tomorrow," said the doctor as a last minute reminder. "There may not be an instant cure but we can hasten the healing process. A report on her condition would also be nice, Commander. Enjoy your time off, Captain."

Chakotay grudgingly nodded as Kathryn glared at the hologram. He needed to make a hasty exit, to get out of there before she did something rash against the EMH. Chakotay knew that the doctor had struck a nerve with her with that little comment.

Sighing, he reflected on an exit strategy. She was still hardly able to stand, and there was no way he was taking the risk of playing her human crutch. He'd already been coughed on enough. Besides, he was quite sure neither of them wanted the mutual embarrassment of walking Voyager's decks, both of them looking like hell, one of them appearing so because of the other.

He requested a site-to-site transport to her quarters. Thankfully, this time around he knew to take her in his arms before shimmering out of Sickbay. He'd already let her end up face down on the floor once; a second time was simply inexcusable. He made sure to shut his eyes tightly as she had another coughing fit on him. They left Sickbay and arrived in her quarters safe and sound.

He had to give her credit for not doing him any worse than thoroughly dirtying his uniform and bathing his face in phlegm. She could have easily struggled in his arms, kicked him, flailed and slapped him. Then again, that might have been because it would have caused him to accidentally drop her, and Kathryn Janeway was not a big fan of unnecessary injury. Actually, Kathryn wasn't keen on violence, at least not the physical sort, not when the situation didn't warrant it. No, she was keen on other forms of violence. He didn't know what to call the type of violence she was exercising against him with all that coughing. He just knew it was violence, and despite how well he was tolerating it, he was fairly certain that he wasn't enjoying it one bit. Damned dragon woman spewing on him...sticky, warm, thick liquid that came in a disgusting array of colors: yellow, brown, and green all mixed together. He definitely needed to take a sonic shower and replicate a new uniform after putting her down.

Pulling the sheets back from her bed, he first sat her down and got down on his knees to pull off her boots and socks. He then got up to help her lie down before tucking her in. She rasped at him. Curses, he assumed. He turned from her before walking a few paces away, safely out of coughing range.

"You owe me a shower," he declared, his back to her. "I'm not going out there like this, and we're not wasting any more energy on site-to-site transports. And yes, I know I live next door. Perfectly aware that hardly anyone will see me if I go to my own quarters. But I'm keeping an eye on you, at least for tonight. The doctor's relieved you for three days. I'm going to make sure you're relieved for at least one of them, and all three if I can muster it. Do you understand?"

He paused, hearing her rasping and coughing behind him again.

"I'm going to pretend you're nodding back there, and I'm taking that as a yes."

He went up to her replicator and got himself a new uniform. Unlike her, he still had a night shift to attend to. That is, after he'd put her to bed.

Before cleaning himself up, he saw fit to also get her a pitcher of ice water, a box of tissues and a waste basket. Those were the best quick fixes he could think of, knowing she would be dehydrated by the fever and that she would need to expel that phlegm. He'd observed her swallowing on the bridge and knew that it couldn't have been good for her.

Once again, he turned to her, approaching with caution. Pouring her a glass, he left the pitcher on her bedside table with the tissue box so both would be within reach, and she wouldn't need to get up. He placed the wastebasket in close proximity to her bed too.

She was still coughing as she took the glass from him. Drinking greedily, she was unceremoniously interrupted by a stray cough that had her choking on the water, spraying him and making her spit up in the glass. He stroked her back, making sure she was breathing right. He then proceeded to get her a fresh glass and carefully brought the water to her lips so she could drink properly. They didn't need words. As he set the glass down on the table, she gave him a weak smile. It was good to know she was done killing him. At least for now...

He went off to her bathroom and took a quick shower before hurriedly changing into his new uniform. Feeling fresh and clean, he wondered what else he needed to do. He wasn't sure of her nightly routine. Would he need to help her out of bed so she could bathe before sleeping? That would certainly help lower her fever. Then again, there was the chance she'd lose consciousness in the tub. Unless she was willing to let him watch her...no, there was absolutely no chance in hell she'd let him watch her. Appealing as the image was, it would always remain just that, an image in his mind. Well, except for the one time he'd seen her in a towel but that was years ago, a moment they'd long put behind them. Maybe he could just ask her, possibly help her with whatever she said she needed. He was quite sure it was safe to do that. She'd given every indication that the drink he'd given her was a sufficient peace offering so there was now a low risk of fluidic attack on the phlegm front.

He approached her bedside. She was now rolling around quite fitfully in a state of half-sleep, eyes closed and struggling for the painless oblivion of slumber. Unaware of anything but the darkness beneath her eyelids, a darkness she was pleading with to engulf her, she felt him easing her uniform jacket off her, pulling off the turtleneck underneath so she could comfortably sleep in her tank top. It didn't occur to her to resist. As the air hit her heated skin, she heaved a sigh of relief knowing sleep wouldn't be as unaattainable a goal as it had been a few moments ago.

He lay her clothes on an empty chair. Knowing he would be late if he didn't leave soon, he asked the computer to lower the temperature in the room by a few degrees and to further dim the lights so she could have as restful a night as possible.

"Sleep well, Kathryn," he whispered as he left, the doors of her quarters hissing shut behind him.

He made a mental note to visit her after the night shift, and of course, that quick stop to Sickbay in the morning for her meds. He supposed that he also had to make sure she got some breakfast, and-

He sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to focus during this shift. He scolded himself for worrying. She was a grown woman, and it was just a cold and fever. She wasn't dying. Besides, he'd already gone above and beyond the call of duty for a subordinate. He'd made sure she'd gotten rest and proper treatment, and had even personally seen to her comfort despite her...resistance. Well, of course he had. He was her best friend. That was what best friends did. He scolded himself for scolding himself about worrying. He had every right to worry. She was ill, and he cared about her. It was a perfectly normal reaction.

Yes, being her best friend was the reason why he worried, why he wasn't the least bit angry about being coughed at and spit on, why he'd gone and been foolhardy in drugging her so she could be treated, why his every thought was now filled with the need to take care of her. It was all because he was her best friend, all because he wanted and still hoped to be something more than that, all because he knew he couldn't let himself be more than that because she'd made it clear that best friends were all they could ever be.

For a second, he thought of ceasing to hope and being content with the relationship he currently had with her. Then he made one last mental note: to never entertain that thought again.

* * *

Whew, that was a doozy to write. Grr...still in suspense about that damn math grade. Damn electronic grade release system...


	5. Blame on the Bridge

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine. What is mine? Not an F. :p

**Author's Note: **Well, I'm still staring at this math grade in disbelief. It wasn't the F I was expecting or the D I was hoping for. C definitely exceeds expectations. xD Hooray for project essays to make up for four flunked tests! (resumes writing duties)

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 5: Blame on the Bridge**

Ill at ease in command late that night, he wondered if there was any more he could have done for her. She was sleeping in coffee-stained trousers because of him. Well, he couldn't exactly peel the pants off her. Then again, he could have replicated her some sweatpants, left those at her bedside with the water and tissues. How could he have been so thoughtless?

He did a double take on that mental tidbit. Thoughtless? Surely, he jested. He was indulging in far too much self-blame. All right, maybe drugging her hadn't been the best course of action but the alternative was waiting for her to surrender to her condition, and potentially having a medical emergency on his conscience.

He sighed. There were far too many medical emergencies involving her. Did she think she was indestructible? She couldn't continue on like this, working herself to exhaustion, taking so many risks with her life. Then it occurred to him...no, it was he who couldn't continue on if he lost her.

The temptation to excuse himself was overwhelming. Then again, she might very well start spewing on him again if he neglected duty to go check up on her. Remembering how she'd breathed her own form of liquid fire on him, he quickly banished the thought of skipping out on his shift. As much as he loved her, he also loved having a clean uniform and some semblance of dignity. He could always check on her later.

Later. Would there always be a later though? He scolded himself for over-thinking the situation. He knew very well that there wouldn't always be a later. Still, in this particular case, the chances of there being a later were extremely high. She was just ill, and they were in a peaceful region of space. This wasn't exactly the kind of scenario where she could be snatched from him at any moment. Besides, paranoia didn't suit him. He urged himself to calm down, distract himself with-

What did he have to distract himself with? His primary distraction wasn't on the bridge tonight! He needed a new distraction, a distraction from his usual distraction. But what? Oh hell, he needed to go see her. What if she'd fallen out of bed? What if she was having trouble drinking again? What if-

He prepared to rise.

"Don't do it," whispered a voice in his head. "It's suicide. Just breathe. Sit. The shift will be over in awhile."

He stayed put, circumventing the impulse to get up into intense fidgeting and ear tugging. Every minute passed at an achingly slow pace. This was how it always was when she wasn't on the bridge due to reasons including, but not limited to, mortal peril, grave injury, or illness. Why couldn't she worry about her own well-being? It infuriated him that he instinctively worried for her, that he was never free of her influence, that everything around him seemed utterly suffocating when he wasn't by her side while she was in pain. What deity saw fit to give a woman so much power over him?

When the shift finally ended, he practically bolted from the bridge, rushing to her quarters. He entered the darkness, being careful to be quiet, fearing he would awaken her. He found her still on her bed, curled up with her sheets rumpled around her. Several crumpled tissues, sticky with her phlegm, were lying on the floor. He assumed she'd missed the waste basket in her haste to throw away the product of her coughing. At least it appeared as if she had been able to get herself a drink with no problem. The pitcher of water was half-empty, and the glass by its side hadn't fallen and shattered. Her sheets were dry so she hadn't spilled on herself. It seemed that he hadn't needed to worry at all. She was doing just fine.

He knelt to pick up tissues that had missed their mark, properly disposing of them. He couldn't help but look up at her, thinking of it as an iconic scene. Didn't the prince kneel before his princess's bed before kissing her awake? Right...his current situation was nothing like that. He was down on bended knee picking up her soiled tissues while she rasped, snorted, and, altogether, made him uncomfortable with the noises she made as she slept. He supposed those unholy sounds she was making were a consequence of blocked air pathways. Yes, once again, she was proving herself to be quite the slumbering dragon.

He'd watched quite a few twentieth century "monster flicks" with Tom. The hero would always try to get at the creature while it was asleep, at its most vulnerable. But then, as the lead was about to slay the beast, the thing would open its eyes and...well, it was a predictable plot. As he put the last tissue in the waste basket, he observed her for any signs of waking. She didn't stir, only murmured in her sleep as she breathed noisily. Carefully, he fixed her rumpled sheets, tucking her in properly. She didn't even flinch.

He decided to give her one last look before going off to bed himself. That same peaceful beauty was there again. Before he knew what he was doing, he found his lips meeting her warm forehead, a gesture of his love for her. He quickly pulled back, sorry that he'd done it, sorry that he could only express his affection so blatantly when he was sure she would never know. He swallowed in horror when she lazily opened her eyes, and slowly brought up a hand to touch the forehead he had just kissed. She was waking up. He exited before he could find out whether it was a princess or a dragon he'd just pulled from sleep's grasp. He didn't need to know. No matter what she was, he'd long ago convinced himself that Kathryn Janeway would only break his heart.

* * *

Whew...just one line of dialogue? Wow, never thought I could manage that. xD


	6. A Forgotten Dream?

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine. If it were, they would have had giant robots. :)

**Author's Note: **Ten days to the first semester. I'll write to my heart's content now before education gets in the way. :p

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 6: A Forgotten Dream?**

A dark blur retreated from her as she slowly opened her eyes. Something soft had brushed against her forehead, and she reached up to caress where it had touched her. For a split second, she saw the light from the hallway as the doors to her quarters opened. The dark blur she had seen was now a figure, human shaped but unidentifiable. It quickly escaped into the light, the doors hissing shut behind it, bathing the room in darkness once more. She squinted and rubbed her eyes. Fever dreams were strange things. It wasn't long until sleep claimed her once more. She would not recall that particular dream the next day.

Perhaps it was for the better...especially since it hadn't been a dream at all. The dark figure she'd seen was presently in his quarters scolding himself to no end. Apparently, that had become his new pastime. Currently, he was scolding himself for foolishness. He'd been far too bold. Kissing her? What had he been thinking? Then again, he'd been remarkably chaste about it. But what if she called him on it when he came to her tomorrow? Well, he'd definitely set himself up for heartbreak. Oh hell, if he was going to end up going to pieces over this, why hadn't he gone the whole nine yards? Why hadn't he gone for her lips? No, no...now, that was just stupid. He was confused now. What exactly was he scolding himself for? For being stupid and kissing her or for being stupid and not going for it when he'd kissed her? Well, at least he was quite sure he was scolding himself for being stupid.

He went to bed that night wondering why he had kissed her, why he hadn't gone all the way when he did. Well, there was the logical reason. She was ill, and kissing her on the mouth might have ended up making him sick too. No, that definitely wasn't his reason for restraining himself. When he'd kissed her, the fact that she was sick had temporarily slipped his mind. He realized the true reason soon enough, a reason that prompted more self-scolding. He'd been afraid, as simple as that.

He scoffed. Afraid was such a strong word. Cautious. He'd been cautious. All right, that made him feel like even more of an imbecile. Being cautious never got anyone anywhere when it came to matters of the heart.

He decided that the night was far too old for such deep rumination. Sleep was in order. For now, he would be cautious. The time for overtly risky maneuvers hadn't come yet. Would it ever come? He didn't know.

Commander Chakotay drifted off into uneasy slumber that night. Part of him wished she wouldn't remember what he'd done, another part desperately hoped she would. It was a pity that fate chose to honor the cowardly half of him.

Back in her quarters, she slept fitfully. A restless night was something they had in common. She couldn't help but toss and turn, constantly having her attempts to return to dreaming interrupted by bouts of coughing. Thankfully, it wasn't hot. The temperature was ideal for her feverish state. She recalled it being a lot hotter when she first fell asleep, and since her illness had rendered her mute, she couldn't have possibly-

"Chakotay," she thought.

He must have lowered the temperature before going on duty. Sometimes she thought he was too good to her. Of course, that didn't mean she was going to forgive his little mutiny so easily. Drugging her just wasn't right. Then again, she had coughed up a storm on him. Hadn't he been punished enough?

She could hardly believe how caring he'd been toward her despite her phlegm attacks on him. Part of her had actually thought he would give up on her, leave her in pain and misery. Of course, he hadn't. He'd stayed, and tended to her. She had a sneaking suspicion that he would have made himself late to his shift helping her had she not fallen asleep. He worried far too much.

She sighed, staring at the ceiling since slumber refused to visit. Thoughts crept into her mind, languid thoughts, thoughts of a dream, which hadn't really been a dream. The images were fuzzy, difficult to recall. She tried to remember but it was like trying to keep water from seeping from her cupped hands, an exercise in futility. The sleep she yearned for finally seized her before she could remember any more.

That morning, she awoke feeling slightly better but still very lethargic. The coughing hadn't ceased in the least. She found the strength to get out of bed, and shower. She'd managed to get her uniform on, and was lacing up her boots when he came in bearing a hypospray. She should have known that he wasn't going to make her return to duty easy.

She tried to tell him she was fine but her throat wouldn't let her. It felt like she'd swallowed broken glass, that she was pushing sharp shards into her tender throat whenever she tried to speak.

"Doctor's orders," he said, extending the hypospray out to her.

She took it from him, sighing as the device hissed against her neck. As she handed it back to him, she eyed him with scrutiny. Was it just her or did he seem awfully fidgety? Ear tugging was never a good sign. She wished she could ask him what was wrong. Of course, her throat wasn't cooperating. Speaking of throats, he cleared his rather loudly.

"You shouldn't be in uniform," he stated. "Three days, Kathryn. And yesterday doesn't count..."

"Mutiny!" she mouthed at him.

"You can't even speak. You're going to need your rest. I'm going to the Mess Hall to get you breakfast. By the time I get back, you should be back in bed and resting or I'll personally strip you of your uniform and drag you to bed."

He felt himself color at the realization of the sexual connotation his statement carried.

"You know what I mean!" he added, seeing that sly smile on her face. "I'll be back soon."

This was his second hasty retreat from the dragon's keep in twelve hours. He still didn't know what he'd awakened the night before but it was definitely a fire breathing lizard in there. Her attitude was sly and saucy. That unintentional double entendre was something she would never let him live down. Then again, if her smile was any indication, it had let him know that she was more than eager to eat him up...

* * *

That's another chapter finished. Not sure how long this will be. Kill me if it gets repetitive.


	7. Breakfast Blunder

**Disclaimer:** ST: VOY isn't mine.

**Author's Note: **Re-watched Phage to get the flashback right. I almost re-watched The Cloud by mistake. :( This chapter sets this story somewhere in season seven, albeit, a rosier version than what we saw onscreen.

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 7: Breakfast Blunder**

As he made his way to the Mess Hall, Chakotay decided to make an attempt to forget his little slip of the tongue by focusing on the problem at hand: how to keep Kathryn Janeway off-duty long enough for her to recuperate without needing to tear her uniform off and force her into bed. Chastely speaking, of course. Damn, that didn't do a good job of purging that embarrassing moment from his memory at all.

He sighed. This was all her fault. He wouldn't be in this mess if she'd taken better care of herself, avoided getting sick by resting like a normal person. If an outsider had heard tales of Kathryn Janeway and her propensity for overwork, they would think that the claims were greatly exaggerated. Honestly, sometimes he thought they were ludicrous too. That was, of course, before she quickly reminded him by acting like she had a symbiotic relationship with her desk, and looked at him like she would perish if he parted her from it. The expression she gave him whenever he told her to ease up on the caffeine was even worse. It was either one of intense sorrow or primal anger, both expertly acted. During their first year in the Delta Quadrant, he'd fallen for that ploy hook, line, and sinker. Well, actually he'd fallen for more than her ploy, but that wasn't the current topic at hand.

He lined up for food, hoping Neelix wasn't conducting any radical culinary experiments today. The last thing he wanted was to make Kathryn sicker. Maybe he should have just treated her to a replicated meal...

"What's on the menu?" asked Chakotay, dreading Neelix's answer. He hoped it wouldn't be-

"Leola root broth with..."

Damn!

"...just what our ailing captain needs."

Yes, if she wanted to get any sicker than she already was!

"Thank you, Neelix," he replied, taking the tray from him.

"I've also included some of my special coffee substitute. Different blend this time..."

Leola root broth and coffee substitute? Did he need to give Kathryn more of a reason to kill him?

"Thank you, Neelix," he repeated for emphasis, making it clear that the conversation was over before the Talaxian could add any more Delta Quadrant delicacies to the tray. He made a quick exit.

"Tell me how she likes it!" Neelix yelled after him.

He was tempted to yell back that she wouldn't like it at all. This meal was going straight into the recycler. He was replicating her breakfast, and that was that. Now, what exactly were her morning meal preferences?

_"Are you sure you won't join me for breakfast?" she asked. "I was thinking of having eggs benedict with asparagus, strawberries and cream."_

_He had to admire that sense of humor, couldn't help but smile at her. Despite the power shortage, she was still doing her best to look on the bright side._

_"I said I was thinking about it," she told him, her arms crossed over her chest as she grinned at him. "I'm actually having ration pack number five, stewed tomatoes with dehydrated eggs."_

That conversation was seven years ago, and yet it remained clear in his mind. That was the first time she'd asked him to join her for breakfast. He remembered having to turn her down. He'd never regretted eating vacuum packed oatmeal before meeting with her quite as much as he did that day. Following that encounter, he'd always met her on an empty stomach. It was a shrewd move but it worked. That was how their working dinners had begun.

If someone peered into his head, they would think of him as a man obsessed. He never forgot important details about her. He'd never missed any of her birthdays, took mental notes of her likes and dislikes. She wasn't the only one onboard with a keen scientific eye for things. Well, actually, he didn't exactly have a keen scientific eye for things, he had a keen scientific eye for her. At least, it would serve a purpose today. He was sparing her Neelix's poison.

Since he couldn't use the Mess Hall replicators now, having had to escape Neelix, he saw fit to make a quick stop to his quarters. After recycling Neelix's toxic meal, he replicated the breakfast he'd remembered from that conversation seven years ago. He doubted she would recall it, but at least he was quite sure she would like it.

He made his way to her quarters next door, bearing the tray of freshly replicated food. Surprisingly, she was in bed, dressed casually in a loose gray Starfleet tee and, well, he didn't want to let his mind wonder if the legs beneath the sheets were clad in anything.

"Giving up so easily?" he teased as she sat up to accommodate the tray.

She glared at him as she picked up a fork and poked at the eggs and asparagus. Despite her state, she ate with an unparalleled grace. Her throat stung as she forced herself to swallow. No matter how finely she chewed, it was still difficult to get it down. Then again, the alternative would probably involve him force-feeding her, and, as difficult as it was to swallow nourishment, it would be twice as difficult to swallow her pride. It was hard enough convincing herself that it would be for the better to stay in bed, that she wouldn't exactly get any work done without her voice.

She suddenly found herself seized by another bout of coughing as she chewed. It was far too late to reach for the tissues as she spit up a mouthful of breakfast and phlegm on her first officer. Maybe she should have swallowed her pride. She was quite sure that would have been better than losing it by spewing on Chakotay.

* * *

And I'll leave them to stew in the awkwardness for a bit. :)


	8. Stained

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine but wishing ain't against the law. ;)

**Author's Note:** Only a few days left before the first semester. Oh goodness...I need to seriously get cracking on these stories.

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 8: Stained**

Was he sure he loved her? The second uniform she'd ruined planted serious doubt in his mind. Honestly, was she still a woman or had she evolved into a humanoid geyser? Making a quick grab for the tissues, he hastily wiped at the stain. It was no use. Great...he'd have to go and change in record time to avoid being late for the morning shift. Exasperation dominated his features. Why did he even bother-

It took him all of ten seconds to realize his mistake. Once again, he found himself imparting yet another self-inflicted scolding for his knee-jerk reaction. Why was his first impulse to clean himself up? She was probably embarrassed as heck, and all he'd done was reinforce that by making his uniform more of a concern than her emotional state. He took a deep breath before looking at her. She had turned from him, quite obviously from shame at the disgusting display. It was apparent that she hadn't intended to fire on him that time.

"I guess I'll just replicate a new uniform after you've eaten," he said in as comforting a tone as he could muster. "No harm done. Just the jacket actually..."

The smile froze on his lips as he mentally pleaded with her to face him. Oh hell, he'd really done it this time. He should have told her he was fine right off the bat. He placed a hand on her shoulder to fend off the disheartened air she now had about her.

"It's perfectly all right, Kathryn."

If kindness could kill...she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He was too good to her, far too good. Too patient, too sweet, too caring...damn! She couldn't even thank him, couldn't apologize, couldn't speak. She met his gaze, and saw only concern on his face. Would it kill him to look at her with a little less adulation? She didn't deserve him, didn't deserve him at all.

"Just a little stain," he reassured her. "I'll go change in my quarters. Be right back to clean up. Finish your breakfast."

As he got up from his seat by her bedside, he noticed how miserably she poked at the remains of her breakfast.

"Kathryn," he stated in a warning tone. "You owe it to me."

He smiled at her, and, almost instantaneously, her gloom and guilt left her. As she cursed his dimples, she found herself clumsily reflecting his grin. Why was it so easy for him to disarm her, to soothe her uneasiness? She heaved a sigh before spearing a strawberry on her fork and consuming it in one bite. She arched an eyebrow at him, her expression saying, "satisfied, Commander?"

"Dessert first, is it?" he chortled. "Well, I have no problems with that as long as you polish off your meal."

She offered him a mock salute and a smile before enacting a rather enthusiastic shooing gesture with her hands.

"Fine, I'm off."

His stomach surprised him by growling as the doors hissed shut behind him. He'd been blissfully unaware of his hunger while tending to her. Perhaps meeting her on an empty stomach hadn't been a good idea today. For one thing, it wouldn't have done him any good since he couldn't have dined with her. He sighed. Apparently that little accident hadn't been enough to make him lose his appetite. Then again, he was quite sure that incident had stood a good chance of making him lose his lunch, er...breakfast, if he'd decided to eat before seeing her. Oh well, he could replicate a muffin with that new jacket. No harm done.

He entered his quarters and quickly slipped out of the stained jacket before making a beeline for his replicator. Upon requesting a new uniform jacket and something to eat so he didn't keel over on the bridge, he was horrified to hear the computer's smug voice telling him he'd used up all his alloted replicator rations for that week. Oh hell...Kathryn's breakfast cost him a lot more than he thought.

He took a rag he had lying around, and ran it under the faucet. Using it to dab the stain away proved to be an exercise in futility. Well, today was turning out great...having to go on duty hungry, stained jacket, leola lunch to look forward to...damn, damn, damn! He took a moment to sit down and take a breather. With a rough day ahead, he needed it. Was there a bright side to this? He only hoped that Tuvok wouldn't point out the stain once the shift began. He eyed his chronometer. The shift was in fifteen minutes, and he still needed to pick up after Kathryn. Oh well, a little running never hurt.

Making his way back to her quarters, he did his best to put on the most cheerful face he could fake. He walked up to her bedside, glad to see that she'd at least finished the breakfast he'd spent the last of his rations on.

"I see you fulfilled your end of the bargain," he remarked, trying to keep his tone jovial. "We're even then."

He picked up her waste basket and emptied it into the recycler along with the tray. He also refilled her pitcher of water and got her a fresh box of tissues.

"I'll be back to bring you lunch," he said as he set the pitcher and tissues on the table by her bed. He tucked her in, brushing the hair away from her eyes. She was the only thing that was going to make today bearable, and he owed her a good midday meal. Well, it was about time he collected his winnings from that pool game with Tom. He only hoped the helmsman wouldn't ask why he was suddenly so eager for those rations now. He would never hear the end of it if Tom found out they were for Kathryn.

"Get well soon, and rest up," he told her, looking at her fondly, more fondly than he should have. She looked up at him and nodded, smiling even as she coughed slightly. It was then that she noticed the stain that remained on his jacket. She pointed at it, puzzled. Hadn't he left to change?

"Oh this...I'm saving rations."

He lied. Badly. Damn him! He'd spent the last of his rations on her breakfast, hadn't he? Before she could react, he'd turned from her and left. She could only sigh in exasperation while he asked for the lights to be dimmed as he bolted out, the doors hissing shut behind him. Now that she lay in the dark, she couldn't help but feel an odd sense of déjà vu. Her hand instinctively went up to her forehead as she watched him depart. He'd left her like this before, ran out of this room just like that...leaving her alone in the dark. But when?

* * *

So yes, she's remembering. :) Up next, the beginnings of a bad day for our favorite XO. ;)


	9. Damned Debt

**Disclaimer:** ST: VOY isn't mine. Basically means I wasn't one of the idiots who thought C/7 was a good idea.

**Author's Note: **Still wondering how to put a stop to this madness. SV, your headache makes a guest appearance. Best I could do. :p

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 9: Damned Debt**

She lay in the dark, wrestling with a memory that refused to be pinned down. Her head was starting to hurt from the effort. Whatever it was, it eluded her and refused to be divulged. The scientist in her didn't want to rest before the mystery was unraveled. Nothing was quite as infuriating as having something right at the tip of her tongue or, in this case, forehead. Something had touched her forehead, that much she knew. But what did that have to do with Chakotay walking out the door? Was it a premonition? A symbolic dream? Alien species communicating with her?

Unfortunately, as much as the scientist in her resisted sleep, the ill woman that persona inhabited welcomed it. Yet again, she was out like a light before she could ruminate further. Well, not exactly out like a light. She was more like a flickering candle desperately combatting the wind, a mere ember one second and a vibrant flame the next. Her coughing kept waking her, draining her energy and snuffing her out until the next fit. She was never awake long enough to think much, just conscious for a few brief seconds to grab at tissues, spit, and throw away the crumpled tissue ball. She was a bad shot when she was ill, littering the floor with the byproduct of her malady. There were also the times she failed to grab a tissue in time resulting in her coughing up on her sheets. She'd have to hide that later, wouldn't want Chakotay wasting rations on new sheets for her.

Of course, Chakotay couldn't exactly replicate her new sheets even if he wanted to. Currently, he was on the bridge, strategically holding a PADD to cover the stain on his jacket. He wondered how he was going to collect the rations from the helmsman who owed him. Frustration mounting, he contemplated his situation. He almost never ran out of rations since he usually exercised extreme thrift with them. His only exorbitant expenses resulted from the fact that he replicated and recycled uniforms on demand. He could afford the luxury of not reusing uniforms since he rarely indulged in replicated food, not unless he was dining with Kathryn. Besides, the stresses of the day rarely left his uniforms free of dirt and grime. Running around from department to department to pick up reports and, of course, manual labor weren't exactly conducive to staying clean. He wasn't opposed to getting down and dirty, and that meant he went through more uniforms that the average bridge officer. And with Kathryn's phlegm attacks...he was so out of luck. Why had he placed so much faith in his budgeting skills? He cursed himself for not replicating spare uniforms. He usually did, but he'd been lazy this week. He'd picked an excellent time to indulge in sloth.

He needed those rations. Badly. There was no way anyone would tolerate him going on duty in his civilian clothes. Besides, he hadn't worn those leather pants in ages. He'd gained some weight, and he highly doubted those still fit him. There was no way he was going to risk chafing, let alone embarrassment at not having the proper attire. He sighed. If Tom wouldn't relent, he'd have to wring the poor boy's neck. Of course, he knew it wouldn't come to that. At least, he hoped so. His expertise in intimidation hadn't waned as the years passed. Trouble was, Tom was probably one of the most difficult people onboard to intimidate.

When the shift ended, he tailed Tom to the Mess Hall. Well, at least he could grab brunch while he worked on getting those rations. He lined up with Tom, wondering what new concoction Neelix was serving for lunch.

"Saving rations, Lieutenant?"

"Uh yeah..."

Tom was cautious. He and Chakotay didn't exactly engage in casual conversation on a regular basis. He hoped that his superior wasn't eager to collect this week. B'Elanna's birthday was nearing and...

"What's for lunch, Neelix?" asked Tom, hoping Chakotay wouldn't pursue a conversation.

"Golden leola root stew," the Talaxian proudly stated, handing Tom a bowl of what looked like yellow sludge. "Thickened the leftover broth from breakfast, added a few extra ingredients. It's an all-new dish."

Neelix then turned to Chakotay. "So how did the captain like her breakfast? I assume you're here to get her lunch."

It was too late for him to protest as the Voyager's crazy cook ladled two bowls for him. "And don't worry, Commander. It's even better cold. Now tell me. Did she love it?"

While Neelix had engaged him in conversation, Tom had slipped away with his bowl of slop.

"She enjoyed it," he told him. "Neelix, I think I'll have lunch later. Save some for the captain and me."

He pushed the tray back toward the Talaxian.

"All right, Commander," said Neelix as he observed Chakotay hurriedly exiting the Mess Hall for the second time that day. That man was seriously in need of shore leave. Sooner or later, he'd be the one ill and in bed.

When Chakotay was sure he was safely out of hearing range, he requested Tom's current location.

"Lieutenant Paris is in Engineering."

Tom had run to B'Elanna. The helmsman had probably ordered a site-to-site from the Mess Hall the moment Chakotay had been distracted. Well, Paris was most certainly going to get it. B'Elanna surely wouldn't tolerate her husband's delinquency in paying this debt. Chakotay rushed to Engineering. Unbeknownst to him, Tom was safely hidden away in the Mess Hall, enjoying Neelix's golden leola root stew as much as humanly possible meaning not at all. Knowing how to transport one's combadge was a handy little trick.

* * *

Four days to school. I think I'm looking at my favorite distraction from homework. :)


	10. Ration Replenishment

**Disclaimer:** ST: VOY isn't mine. I highly doubt Paramount has time to sue me but this is just a precaution.

**Author's Note: **OMG! We've hit double digits in chapter count? This story must die soon. xD

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 10: Ration Replenishment**

"And you thought my marrying him was a bad idea," smiled B'Elanna smugly as she rerouted rations from Tom's account to Chakotay's. A good thing about marrying the ship's designated "big spender" was that one could easily dip into his savings. B'Elanna only abused the privilege when necessary, when the wealth was ill-gotten, when her dear husband had delayed in paying a debt he had the means to resolve. Yes, she abused the privilege a lot.

Chakotay was relieved to know that he now had rations to last him the next two weeks. He'd thought his head was going to spontaneously combust when he didn't find Tom in Engineering. What he did find was the wily helmsman's combadge. He resisted the urge to crush the damned thing to dust, and instead pocketed it. The moment he had some free time on his hands, he was going to take up playing darts again. Tom was definitely going to get his combadge back. The doctor would need to pry the communications device out of the helmsman's skull once Chakotay was through. Or maybe he could propagate Native American stereotypes, sharpen the damn thing, and scalp Tom with it...

It was fortunate that B'Elanna had found him when she did. He'd been furious, and about ready to keel over from hunger. When she discovered what had been vexing him, she just had to laugh. After she'd placated him by paying her husband's debt, she gave him a thorough looking over. Judging by the level of annoyance he was exhibiting, she could tell that he hadn't told her everything. She was quite sure Tom wasn't the only thing irritating Chakotay.

"What did she do this time?" asked B'Elanna knowingly.

"She? If you're referring to Tom, that's an insult to women."

"Chakotay, you know very well which 'she' I'm talking about. The doctor told me all about your Sickbay struggles. What else did she do to you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She pointed to the stain on his uniform jacket. "Yes, you do. Spill."

"The captain's ill. You know that. I treated her to breakfast, and it didn't go exactly as planned. That's all."

"And your sudden desperate need for rations?"

"Ambizine was more expensive than I thought."

"I know about the ambizine bit. Serves you right, actually. You should've known better. That's still not enough to deplete you of all your rations."

"Thanks for chewing me out for her," he said, unable to keep from rolling his eyes. "Is this interrogation over?"

"Far from it. Why do you need the rations so bad? You're a tightwad, and usually have more than enough. That's why the captain only steals from you."

It was true. Kathryn knew very well that he wouldn't call her out on her little acts of larceny. As the years passed, he'd grown accustomed to the strange deficit in his rations. He wasn't exactly sure when she'd begun stealing from him. During the first year, he'd gotten his allotted amount of rations intact at the beginning of every week. As the journey wore on, the amount he received lessened. At first, the portion deducted was small, almost insignificant. He really didn't pay too much attention since he was quite frugal. But after seven years...he would need to talk to her about her petty theft once she got her voice back. With all the coffee she was drinking, he was fairly certain that she wasn't subsisting primarily just on her rations. Then again, the more upset she got, the more coffee she drank, and the more rations he lost. He decided he was better off keeping his mouth shut.

"Then it should be self-explanatory," he remarked. "She stole too much this week, and I ran out."

B'Elanna scoffed. "Going to sink that low, and blame it all on her? Tsk, tsk, Chakotay..."

He sighed. "I don't need to explain my expenses to you. What exactly do you want to hear?"

"That you wasted those rations on your sick lady love?"

He snorted. "She's hardly a lady."

"I hear no denial."

"Hear what you want to hear. I'm off to get myself a new uniform, and a late brunch."

"Not even a thank you?"

Through gritted teeth, he mumbled an awkward "thanks," before turning his back on her. Great...he could already tell by the sly smile on B'Elanna's face that she would probably soothe Tom's financial loss with gossip. Well, he'd survived seven years of far more vicious rumors. What difference did one more make?

Glad that that little confrontation was over, he hurried off to his quarters, and replicated himself a big bowl of mushroom soup. After half a day of hell, he had every right to indulge. He already knew dinner was going to be a horrid affair. He had, after all, asked Neelix to save him and the captain some of that vile stew. For sure, he wasn't going to feed Kathryn that yellow sludge. Still, he knew he would have to eat it, if only to avoid hurting their cook's feelings. Besides, now that he had rations again, he didn't intend to waste them. Being broke was far too traumatic.

With his hunger sated, he moved on to the second item on the agenda and replicated himself a new uniform jacket plus spare uniforms for the days to come. He'd definitely learned his lesson about not keeping spares. The day could only improve now. At least, he didn't have to spend the rest of the day covering a phlegm stain with a PADD. He could finally get around to reading that security report instead of using it as a fashion accessory.

Yes, things were definitely looking up. With all that taken care of, he replicated Kathryn a light lunch. No coffee. He wondered if she would whine about that. She hadn't complained about the lack of her favorite beverage at breakfast. Then again, that was probably because she'd been embarrassed by that little coughing incident. Well, she couldn't express her displeasure verbally. He shuddered...but she would find a way to express it, of that he was sure. Taking a deep breath, he took his meager offering and went next door.

* * *

I wonder how long I can keep this up. :)


	11. Forty One Winks

**Disclaimer:** ST: VOY isn't mine. However, there are infinite parallel universes, aren't there? I must own VOY in at least one of them...

**Author's Note: **Back to school for me. Distractions from writing suck, but I'm going to need a job one day. Pardon the slower updates.

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 11: Forty-One Winks  
**

He tiptoed in, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. If she was still resting, he would most probably leave lunch by her bed, trusting her to eat at her leisure once she got up. He'd replicated her a chicken sandwich and some orange juice. Fluids and Vitamin C were always good, right? He'd opted for the sandwich since he didn't think chicken soup was a good idea with all her coughing; at least, not unless he spoon-fed her. As romantic as that sounded, he knew she would never agree to it. Also, he could already visualize how it would turn out if he did feed her the soup; she'd spit up all over him if she coughed, and she wasn't exactly still when she had one of those fits. He could already see them getting second-degree burns from hot soup spillage, him having to replicate new sheets and another uniform, her having to get cleaned up and being flustered about being forced out of bed. Yes, the sandwich was the superior tactical choice.

It wasn't exactly a meal that required supervision. Even if she was awake, he really didn't need to stay and watch her. He squelched the impeding argument in his head before it even started. Eager to shirk his duties, was he? He knew very well how stubborn she was. She probably wouldn't have touched her breakfast if he hadn't supervised. All right, if she was awake, he would remain with her even if it might entail having to shove a sandwich down her throat later.

He sighed at his decision to stay. Even before he came in, he already knew what he was going to do, what she was going to do to him without her realizing it. Asleep or not, she always drew him in, made him unable to resist the urge to linger near her. He always stayed.

Memories of nightly vigils every time she almost got herself killed suddenly plagued him. He always stayed longer than was good for him. He wished he didn't but he couldn't help it. Every time she got hurt, he ached as well. The uncertainty drove him mad. He just couldn't leave until he was sure she was all right, until her gaze, glaring or gawking, met his again, until her voice, castigating or complimenting, reached his ears once more. To think that he might never see her move again, that her breathing could cease, that her heart could stop beating as his pounded desperately...he often forgot that she was mortal, too.

He hated sitting by her bed wondering if she would ever open her eyes again, hated the waiting, hated his impatience, hated how he felt about her, hated how she didn't feel about him...

As he neared her, he heard her coughing. She was awake. A tissue ball pelted him in the face as he closed in on her bed. Great...now she was fortifying her ammo with white fluff. She slipped back into dreaming just as he got near enough to set the tray on the table.

Would he wait for her to wake up? He had reports to get to and a duty shift schedule to arrange; she wouldn't exactly appreciate him neglecting his job to take care of her. Then again, he desperately needed a pause from the hectic day, a small reprieve before diving back into the chaos. He could spend his breaks at his own discretion, and he wanted to be selfish. Getting ahead on work was going to take a backseat today. He wanted to watch her sleep knowing she wasn't in any danger, knowing for sure she would open her eyes and croak at him if she saw him there. Certainty was a luxury in the Delta Quadrant; wasting it would be a crime.

He pulled up a chair, and sat by her bed. She tossed and turned a lot; he decided against tucking her in as he had yesterday. Again, the floor was littered with tissues. He picked them up and properly disposed of them, mirroring his actions of the previous night. As he watched her sleep, he felt the urge to touch her. He reached out but quickly pulled back. No, he'd already crossed boundaries that weren't meant to be crossed when he'd kissed her. He wasn't going to risk it again. It was fortunate that she hadn't remembered his indiscretion. He wasn't about to commit another one for her to recall.

He had to go. Now. She would eat if she was hungry. If she didn't, there was always dinner. Against his better judgment, he decided to leave her alone in her slumber.

He rose from his chair, and got as far as the door before her coughing pierced the silence. She was really quite awake this time, the vehemence of this particular phlegm-induced fit jolting her into full awareness. The stale, bitter taste in her mouth wasn't lost on her. She needed to brush her teeth. Badly. She croaked something that sounded a lot like his name as she clambered out of bed. Finally, he was able to see if her legs were clad in anything beneath those sheets. They weren't.

Not exactly. Her tee was big for her and came down around her knees, protecting her modesty despite her lack of pants. Earlier that day, she'd found herself a bit dizzy and, since she couldn't use the voice prompt due to the condition of her throat, she'd pushed buttons while in a haze. The result was a shirt much too big for her. Oh well, at least it eliminated the need to replicate pants...or underwear for that matter. Chakotay didn't need to know about that last bit.

She sauntered to the bathroom as he stood frozen. Deciding to throw him for a loop, she randomly winked at him as the doors closed behind her.

His eyes widened. Kathryn Janeway had winked at him? What was that supposed to mean? He swallowed. Could she have sensed him reaching out to touch her? Remembered what he'd done the night before? Was she acknowledging his unintentional advance? He urged himself to calm down. Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly involve brig time, could it?

* * *

And now I run off to Spanish class...


	12. Never Drink OJ After Brushing Your Teeth

**Disclaimer: **VOY isn't mine. I now go forth and resume my unhealthy obsession with someday possessing it. Paramount had better watch out. ;)

**Author's Note: **Finished right before Psychology class. This thing writes itself. Out of control, I swear.**  
**

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 12: Never Drink Orange Juice Immediately After Brushing Your Teeth  
**

He resisted the urge to carry her to bed as she exited the bathroom on unsteady legs. Instead, he returned to his seat, and observed her progress from there. He was quite ready to bolt out of his chair at a moment's notice, and probably would have if not for the little voice in his head pleading with him not to jump the gun.

She was drowsy and ill so a little disorientation was normal, probably even a side effect of the drug he'd given her this morning. She'd gotten to the bathroom just fine. All right, maybe she was a tad out out of it. She had winked at him, after all...but she'd made it all the way to the other side of the room without mishap. Besides, she wouldn't appreciate being treated like a damsel in distress.

He was willing to bet that she would rather trip all over herself for an entire kilometer's jaunt rather than suffer the indignity of being carried when she believed herself capable enough to walk. Not that he would let her trip all over herself for the duration of a one kilometer walk...maybe five hundred meters. After that, he would probably yell at her to quit being so stubborn and carry her as she whined, cursed, and flailed. He sighed. He was glad her bed wasn't too far from the bathroom. She only stumbled once on the way back, and picked herself up with utter grace. Only she could look graceful getting up from a fall wearing an oversized gray Starfleet tee...

She was more than a little relieved that fall hadn't revealed anything. If her tee had hitched up just a little...she couldn't help but shudder a bit. Why had she been too lazy to go to her underwear drawer? Oh right, she liked a little ventilation down there. Actually, there were a lot of things she liked down there. Was he one of those things?

"How should I know?" her mind griped. "I've never had him in my bed. Maybe in a few dreams but- Just focus, Kathryn!"

Her mind cried out for common sense. It seemed apparent that the illness wasn't only impairing her bodily functions but her mental ones as well.

"He's your first officer," she scolded, "not a valid object of your fantasies,"

Right...not valid. That meant nothing, and she knew it. What was Starfleet going to do? Pick her brain and tell her to stop dreaming up x-rated material involving her subordinate? She found herself blushing a bit at that. Well, her thoughts about Chakotay weren't exactly x-rated...most of the time.

Besides, she resisted the urge to fantasize whenever Tuvok was on the bridge. Her chief of security was almost always there so she rarely got into those steamier daydreams. She knew the Vulcan couldn't read her mind from a distance but he could tell when her mind was drifting based on physical cues, and she knew very well he would tell her about it. The threat of a Vulcan scolding made her keep her train of thought nice and clean. Actually, she'd taken to stationing Tuvok on almost all her bridge shifts over the past few years. It was the only sure way she could think of to repress those dirty thoughts well enough to truly focus. Sitting next to Chakotay had almost driven her mad during the first few months of the journey. Almost every casual conversation she had with him involved, both intentional and unintentional, innuendo.

Finally finding herself seated in bed, she made sure to hide any stains she had made with some rather creative tucking. The room was dimly lit so he wouldn't have seen the mess anyway. It was depressing to think that the only bodily fluids that regularly spilled onto her bed came spewing out of her mouth. She believed she had the license to think lasciviously considering her deprived state. She would have gone nuts a long time ago if she didn't let herself at least muse about, as Seven called it...

_"Copulation. The exchange of bodily fluids. In layman's terms, sex."_

_"Excuse me?" blurted Janeway, shell-shocked at what the ex-Borg had just said._

_"That is what you require," stated Seven succinctly. "You asked, 'now, what else do I need?' I replied based on my visual assessment of your biological state. You require sex."_

_"Seven, you really need to learn the concept behind a rhetorical question..."_

She almost groaned when she remembered that conversation. Best to shove that mental tidbit in the back of her mind along with all those wicked thoughts about bedding her first officer. It just wouldn't be proper!

"Damned propriety!" she suddenly screeched. Her voice was slowly returning but it was still mostly a hush, the sound of air coming out her windpipe set to a strange tune resembling human intonation.

"Did you say something?" asked Chakotay. Her fists were clenched and gripping her sheets. The doctor did say that the medicine might make her moody...

She shook her head and took the tray from her bedside table. She needed a drink, something to burn down her throat, to make her forget the embarrassing path her mind had decided to traverse. Of course, sensible Chakotay had gotten her orange juice. She gulped it down.

Oh hell...that tasted nasty. If ever she wanted to have a coughing fit, it was then. The mixture of bitterness, sourness, and toothpaste after-taste was enough to make her want to spew. She quivered as she forced herself to swallow, her eyes shutting tight and her face contorting to look like she had just been force-fed vinegar. She couldn't spit, and dirty another one of his uniforms. Despite his patience, she was quite certain that the day would come when he would nonchalantly slip into her quarters and strangle her in her sleep for being so difficult...or possibly ravish her. She wasn't quite sure.

What she was now sure of was the stupidity of brushing one's teeth prior to a meal. Hunger after a snooze always left her screwed. Stale saliva wasn't exactly conducive to an appetite so there was no way she was going to munch without washing her mouth out. But then, brushing her teeth left everything she ate tasting like mint, and the orange juice...that was just vile. Of course, there was the compromise of just washing her mouth out with water but it didn't really leave a pleasant taste in her mouth knowing she hadn't completely eradicated that staleness. It was a no-win situation.

She took a breath as she bit into her sandwich, watching him as he watched her curiously. There was a fondness in his gaze that she wasn't entirely sure she deserved.

No-win situations seemed to be the norm when it came to her.

* * *

A dozen chapters? Methinks this has really gotten out of hand. Oh well, as long as we don't hit twenty. And to think that this is still just day one of her three days. Yeah, I'm really stretching out the time, aren't I? Is that bad? :(


	13. B Plus

**Disclaimer:** ST: VOY isn't mine. Have to put my plans for taking over Paramount on hold. Damn studies. xD

**Author's Note: **SV, I incorporated another one of your life experiences in here. Care to guess where? :D

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 13: B+**

She found that lunch wasn't quite as difficult to swallow as breakfast, a welcome relief since she did enjoy consuming solid food knowing it wouldn't feel like she was dragging a knife along the inside of her throat. He would probably leave after she finished eating. She was sorely tempted to draw out the meal and chew as slowly as humanly possible. Still, he had a shift to get to and her wanting to keep him to herself was not a valid excuse for him to miss duty. Besides, didn't she have more reflecting to do?

She was going to figure out that dream even if it killed her. For all she knew, something had planted a device in her forehead. Involuntarily, her hand went up to touch the area where she'd felt that warm sensation.

"Headache?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Dream," she managed to choke out, her throat punishing her with a mild jolt of pain for running sound vibrations through it. She frowned before croaking out the next sentence. "Something touched my forehead."

The effort it took to say that left a sharp sting. Her voice was returning but she didn't intend to use it for a good long time. At least, the medication the doctor had given her seemed to be working. She eyed her first officer's reaction to her statement. He was biting his bottom lip and tugging on his ear. Never a good sign...

"PADD," she requested in a rasp, causing her to want to recoil as pain shot through her throat again. Every time she spoke, it felt like a thorny vine was shooting a particularly prickly tendril into the flesh of her esophagus. Still, she wanted to be able to converse about what had him so perturbed. Speaking to him in such short bursts was infuriating, and a PADD would greatly help her communicate.

"No," he remarked almost instinctively, not even pausing his fidgeting as he declined her. "Kathryn, you need to rest. I'm not running the risk of you getting into the network and trying to run the ship behind my back via text commands. You have three days off, use them. If you want a PADD so badly, I'll bring you one at dinner. Just give me time to modify one so it doesn't sync with the ship's mainframe."

She glared at him but he would not cower. She was ill and out of it, but he wasn't so complacent as to underestimate her. If she really put her mind to something, she could do it no matter what state she was in. Besides, if she was really so desperate to talk, she'd request even the most primitive writing tools. Then again, he'd seen the effort she put in her penmanship. She always required a flat surface when she wrote, always took her time to form each beautiful letter in ink. It was a process she considered on the same level as art. Producing squiggles while in bed probably wasn't an option that appealed to that particular obsessive-compulsive side of her.

His overconfidence in her abilities infuriated her. Sure, she was a workaholic but she knew where to draw the line. Hacking into the database hadn't even crossed her mind! But now that he mentioned it...oh damn! He was right. She would probably have been unable to resist trying to get some work done once she'd obtained the PADD. Granted, she would have done a very sloppy job of it with her brain all addled by medication and malady, but she would have found a way to get to her reports. She would also probably make a complete fiasco of them once she started, and put herself through hell once she was well enough to double-check the work.

It had happened before, working while ill getting her into trouble. That little foray into chaotic space would have gone a lot better if she hadn't been sick during her exo-genetics final in her senior year. She could have used her pull with the professor, presented a medical certificate so she could take the test at a later date. Heaven knew she needed bed rest. Still, she was as stubborn then as she was now. She was deliriously cocky even as she floated through a feverish haze. She'd read the material from cover to cover, practically had the text memorized; there was no way she was going to miss a single question even if she was sick.

She got a final grade of B+ and swore to curse nucleotide resonance frequency for the rest of her Starfleet career. She would have gotten an A if she'd aced that final! That close! That tantalizingly close! Her report card would have been flawless! Straight A's! Every time she saw that B+ marring her record, she cringed. After all those years, she'd successfully repressed the memory. Of course, the Delta Quadrant decided to throw her a curve ball. Chaotic space put Chakotay in peril and, in a twist of fate she found almost hilarious, made her have to save him using the one lesson that had stood in the way of her becoming a paragon of Starfleet perfection. Even more amusing was...

_She sipped her coffee as they discussed their Academy days, growing nostalgic as they looked over the records of officers up for promotion. _

_"Harry got an A in exo-biology," reported Chakotay as he looked at the eternal ensign's report card. "This is an exceptional record. Straight A's. Even I didn't get straight A's. Heck, even you didn't-"_

_"Don't rub it in," she huffed as she set her cup down on the table. "You'll prejudice me against him. I'll consider Harry. Next?"_

_He looked at her with doubt in his eyes. She glared. She knew that he found it strange that she always found a way to delay promotions, especially, for some strange cosmic reason, Harry's. The stellar report card was what made her withhold the chance to rise through the ranks from the ensign. Something just bothered her about it. As much as she hated to admit it, the young, competitive Starfleet cadet inside her was green with envy. She was certain she would have been promoted faster if she'd gotten straight A's, and the weight her superiors had put on academic records infuriated her. _

_She wasn't going to execute that system on her ship. For example, she'd picked the floundering Tal Celes for her crew, despite the girl's deplorable academic record, because the Bajoran had a skill for thinking outside the box. When picking crewmen and giving out promotions, she didn't think much about grades. Harry would be promoted...soon. He just had to learn that he had to prove himself harder than the others. Yes, she was being spiteful. It was a subconscious urge. Nobody had to know that. She always had a ready excuse..._

_"I got a B+ in exo-biology, too," chortled Chakotay. "There's no need to launch a vendetta against the boy for doing better than you at something. He did better than me, too. He even got an A in Advanced Tactics. I ended up being an instructor for that class and the best I could do was a B+. Professor thought I was much too radical."_

_"Surely, you're not accusing me of being bitter," she rebutted. "I'm not declining Harry for promotion because he got an A on something I didn't. That would be immature. I'm not even declining him! I'm putting him on the waiting list for approval. With all the catastrophes the Delta Quadrant throws at us, I just haven't gotten around to it."_

_His patronizing nod made her want to go over the edge. "You don't believe me!" she almost shouted in exasperation._

_"I'm just saying...let it go, Kathryn. Those grades don't matter out here. Give the boy his promotion. Besides, I kind of liked the fact that you got a B+. You aren't perfect. If you were a straight-A student, you might have risen to admiral before even having the chance to command this ship. I might have ended up serving under an entirely different captain. Or worse...one who wouldn't have made the sacrifice for the Ocampa, one that just wanted to use the array, get home, and lock us away. "_

_She sighed as she saw the appreciation in his eyes, appreciation for her. She gave him a half-smile._

_"He's on the waiting list, Chakotay."_

She continued to glare at him as she polished off her sandwich, now eager to have him leave so she could be alone with her thoughts. How could he predict her so easily? It was annoying!

He looked at her with concern.

"Something upset you?" he asked, involuntarily finding himself running his thumb over the frown creases on her forehead. Her eyes met his as he quickly pulled his hand back.

"Sorry," he quickly apologized as he noted her eyes widening, her hands coming up to touch the area his thumb had just run over. The dream came flowing back, the sensation...soft, warm, moist lips on her forehead; it was a feeling reminiscent of the kisses her mother had left there when she was a child. She closed her eyes, seeing the events of the previous night clearly.

He'd kissed her.

* * *

Yes, finished this chapter. Longer than most of the other chapters. Proud of this one. :) Wrote this to release tension. It's almost 2am, and I have my ROTC briefing at 8. :(


	14. The Dead Don't Strip, Commander

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine. How many people think I should have it? (raises her hand) Oh fudge...

**Author's Note: **Yes, the all-mighty cliche "Tuvok's training exercise" scenario. I'm aware it's been over-done. It's never been done by me though. ;)

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 14: The Dead Don't Strip, Commander**

In her dream. On the forehead. While she was sick.

That "kiss" didn't mean anything!

Now that she'd figured it out, she was utterly disappointed. Yet another fantasy about him conjured by her intimacy deprivation? This was made worse by the fact that this fantasy was particularly tame. Was she growing less fond of him?

Throwing him a confused glance, she was more than a little amused at how he'd visibly paled. What was the matter with him? Aside from regularly turning her head with his looks, he certainly got the wheels in her head turning with his actions. Certainly, he didn't think she was upset by his gesture? It was thoughtful of him to want to smooth her frown away. Then again, he'd quickly recoiled from her the moment their eyes had connected, when she'd had her realization...

She wanted to tell him it was all right, that she'd appreciated his touch. Still, speaking again would prove much too taxing. She was not a fan of unnecessary pain. Smiling kindly, she reached out to stroke his cheek, causing more blood than was necessary to rush to his face. Well, at least he wasn't pale anymore. He was clammy though. Cold. The temperature in the room helped to keep her cool in her fever but...it was a miracle he wasn't shivering.

No, she wasn't growing any less fond of him at all. After seven years, she was quite sure she couldn't be put off her liking of him any more than she could be put off her addiction to coffee. Actually, the fact that he was the only one who could talk her into giving up coffee, albeit for very short periods of time, spoke volumes about what she thought of the man. One obsession standing in the way of the other...

The fact that she hadn't bitten his head off for drugging her also said a lot.

He cleared his throat, excusing himself. Rapidly, he spat out a monologue regarding reports that needed to be done, a briefing he had to preside over, and a diagnostic he had to check up on. He punctuated that verbal list with a promise to return at dinner. Nearly stumbling over his own legs as he ran about her quarters in a flurry, he quickly tidied up before departing.

"Take care of yourself," he told her, not knowing what else to say as he was halfway out the door. Just like that he was gone, and she was left to stew in her confusion.

Well, that was...odd. What exactly had happened? One minute he'd been in front of her, and the next he was out the door. He sure had a penchant for hasty exits. She couldn't help but chuckle. Despite that, he always ended up dead in Tuvok's emergency drills. Then again, so did she.

_"You would have lived if you'd left five minutes ago. It's only the captain who has to go down with the ship."_

_He threw her that boyish grin that always made her weak in the knees. It was fortunate that they were both lying on the bridge floor, since she was quite sure she would have visibly lost her composure under the influence of that dimpled smile._

_"Isn't there an unspoken rule about the first officer going down with the captain?"_

_She rolled her eyes at that statement, absentmindedly rapping her fingers on the floor, amusing herself with no particular beat or rhythm. They were lying face to face, and she was getting quite tired of being dead. It didn't help that Tuvok had taken environmental controls off-line for realism's sake. She and Chakotay were thoroughly sweating it out in their uniforms. Would it have killed the Vulcan to take into consideration that maybe, just maybe, environmental controls could survive an alien attack?_

_Sighing, she stopped her bored hand movements, and closed her eyes. She wondered if she could nap despite the hard floor and the heat. If she was out cold, that contributed to Tuvok's vision of an accurate scenario, didn't it? Out cold...she scoffed at the idiom. Right now, she felt like she was on fire._

_Lazily, she opened her eyes to see Chakotay sitting up and taking off his uniform jacket and turtleneck. She would have followed his example if the heat hadn't sapped her strength. Instead, she continued lying on the floor as if glued there by her sweat. _

_"The dead don't strip, Commander," she teased._

_"They don't talk either," he smirked, lying down beside her again. Tuvok would kill him if he wasn't at the "site of his demise."_

_"How are you going to explain your change of attire to Tuvok?" she asked, unable to keep from admiring his strong shoulders. As much as she hated to admit it, he looked better in a tank top than she did._

_He shrugged. "Alien stole it right before they harvested my organs."_

_She laughed. "Good one. I'd undress, too, but I can't think of a better excuse than yours."_

_Wickedly, he grinned. "I'm sure you'll think of something."_

_Even when she was covered in sweat, and defenseless on the floor, her stare still burned more than the heat. "Help me get out of these clothes, then?"_

_His cheeks visibly colored but his voice was the sound of calm itself. "What's the penalty for dressing down a superior officer?"_

The drill had ended before she could answer his loaded question. Fortunately for Chakotay, Tuvok wasn't as much a stickler for detail as they thought, and the excuse went unused. Still, they were both given a thorough Vulcan scolding for failing to survive a single training exercise. Oh well...

She was in no mood for sleep now, having had more than her fill throughout the day. Still, she was in no mood to get up either. Well, this was quite the perilous situation. Lie here and die of boredom or get up and do God-knew-what? Well, at least ungodly heat wasn't a problem. Still, another problem had replaced it, an idle mind. At least she'd had Chakotay to babble to on that burning bridge floor. She found her fingers absentmindedly rapping against her pillow, producing no sound to amuse her. If only her first officer was as willing to lie with her on her bed as he was on her bridge...

In his office, he wrestled with his own dilemma, one that had plagued him for far too long despite its pointlessness. Did she know or not? Well, if she did, she would have been seething, wouldn't she? Her lack of response told him that she was still unaware. Why was he blowing this so out of proportion anyway? He'd kissed her on the forehead. So what? She was ill, and it was a kind gesture one often bestowed upon a sick child or an ill friend, not a lover. It wasn't an amorous advance. If anything, he should just let the matter drop, and get back to work. Nothing like Tuvok's security reports to purge the mind of unnecessary worries. And of course, the captain needed her PADD...

* * *

Whee...another chapter finished. :) My goal is now to really end it at twenty. (begs her story to stop at twenty) The force that possesses my fingers to type this out is too out of control already.


	15. Table for One

**Disclaimer:** ST: VOY isn't mine. Oh well, at least I don't have to take responsibility for trashing it.

**Author's Note: **Sooooo tired... (types incoherently) If this sucks, keep in mind that I'm currently in a trance, half-asleep, and have no idea what I'm doing. And yes, I'm aware of my gratuitous abuse of flashbacks. Blame my English prof for teaching me to write _in medias res. _

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 15: Table for One**

Time passed differently for the captain and the commander. In her quarters, she stayed in bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like eons. Meanwhile, he zipped around the ship, minutes ticking by like seconds as he frantically did his job. Before he knew it, it was already an hour to dinner. In contrast, she'd known the exact second when dinner became but an hour away. She'd kept herself entertained by taking a short walk to her underwear drawer, and digging for the silver pocket watch he'd given her a few birthdays ago. And yes, she finally got around to dressing down there. After that little spill she'd had before lunch, she wasn't going to risk him seeing something he wasn't meant to see. Well, maybe something he wasn't meant to see just yet...

In bed, she'd pressed the watch to her ear, the ticking lulling her into a state of half-sleep. Scratch that, more like quarter-sleep. She easily snapped out of it as a coughing fit reminded her that she was still far from well. Not knowing what else to do, she found herself looking at the time, admiring the beautiful face of the timepiece, pleading with the minute hand to move as each second passed at an achingly slow pace. If she hadn't known any better, she would have assumed that she was trapped in yet another temporal anomaly. Tossing and turning, she found herself growling and groaning in frustration. She was going stir-crazy with nothing to do, and the fact that time was flowing like molasses didn't help her cause.

On the other hand, time was flowing like a furious river for Chakotay. After a grueling day, he'd finally found his way back to his office. A blank PADD sat on his desk, ready for modification. Bracing himself for the second to the last job of the day, he sat down and retrieved a "borrowed" tool kit from Engineering. He liked to fix his own technological problems when he could. Kathryn was well-aware of his propensity toward being "Mr. Fix-it." On New Earth, he'd spent a lot of time toying with various projects. Besides, if she ever dared call him on it, he would tell the doctor about the medkit she kept in her quarters. First aid was all well and good but the medical equipment she had in there...it was no wonder she could avoid Sickbay. And of course, the EMH had been complaining about medical tools going missing...she owed him for all the times he'd had to listen to the hologram's rants.

The modifications were easy enough. With a few minor tweaks, the PADD no longer synced with the ship's mainframe. The threat of her trying to run the ship behind his back no longer existed. Still, it didn't seem adequate. Surely, she was going nuts having nothing to do. He wasn't going to let her work but...

A few alterations later, he'd managed to alter the programming so that the device could sync with one other PADD. Now, she could have him at her fingertips. He'd missed their conversations on the bridge, and was quite sure she would appreciate being updated on events as they happened. Mentally, he gave himself a pat on the back for the excellent idea.

The joy at his achievement was short-lived when he remembered that he had leola slop to consume before bringing Kathryn her dinner. Neelix was not likely to forget the little promise Chakotay had made at lunch. Taking a brave stance, he rose from his chair, modified PADD in his pocket, and left his office for the Mess Hall.

It wasn't as bad he thought it would be.

Really.

It wasn't.

It was much worse.

He already knew it was pretty repugnant when it was freshly-made, but Neelix had really out-done himself with this golden leola root stew. The dish had started its life as leola root broth at breakfast. By some evil gastronomic witch craft, the crazy cook had turned it into stew by lunch time, thickening it and turning it pus yellow with spirits' knew what. And now at dinner...it had congealed into a jelly of some sort.

"It's better cold," grinned Neelix toothily. "Believe me."

Chakotay didn't believe him at all.

The Talaxian had taste buds that greatly differed from those possessed by the commander. The human definition of what tasted good definitely wasn't the same as the alien chef's. Chakotay seriously wondered how he'd avoided being poisoned all these years.

Still, he had no other recourse but to eat it. The new budget he'd developed for his rations while skimming through reports meant he was going to have to be even more of a penny pincher. His spoon slowly sank into the cold, gelatinous goop. With much effort, he brought the first spoonful to his mouth.

It was definitely not better cold. At the moment, he wished it had been burning hot enough to destroy his sense of taste. The urge to gag was overwhelming. Still, he forced spoon after spoon down his throat as if his life depended on it. The nutritional value of the root was freakishly high, and if he was going to keep healthy this was one of the best meals for that purpose. He just had to make sure he got it in his belly and past the point of no return before he vomited. Suddenly, he was highly tempted to just down vitamin supplements for the rest of his life.

Kathryn had better invite him to dinner more often after she recovered. His dinners with her were now his sole excuse for eating out of the replicator. True, sometimes she would cook, and while her efforts were, most of the time, only a little better than the golden leola goop, once you scraped the burnt bits off, it was almost palatable.

Besides, her culinary endeavors didn't always fail. Sometimes she cooked even better than he did. It just depended on the dish. Luckily for him, she almost always did vegetable dishes well when she set her mind to it. Still, she preferred to have him cook since preparing a meal required a lot of effort on her part.

Honestly, sometimes her dishes bested his hands down. She never rubbed it in his face when she made a particularly good meal lest he leave dinner duties to her. No, instead she stroked his ego when it came to the kitchen. Kathryn Janeway's self-preservation instincts at their finest...well, it was understandable. The few times she's made a wonderful culinary product resulted in quite a few 'casualties...'

_ He almost hadn't believed she'd prepared it but he'd seen her in the Mess Hall earlier that day, engaging the stove in a battle of wills. He seriously wondered if dinner had been cooked under the heat of that glare of hers..._

_"Don't think that glorified toaster did all the work," she huffed, referring to her replicator. It seemed she'd taken it apart in a fit of frustration. He resolved to offer to fix it after the meal. _

_"I had serious problems with it," she continued, swirling her wine. "It wouldn't recognize the recipe. I had to replicate the raw ingredients and invade Neelix's kitchen to put them all together."_

_"I'm sure he wasn't too happy," smirked Chakotay. _

_"Neelix was ever the busybody," she smiled. "He tried to help but I wanted dinner tonight to be a leola-free affair."_

_"Here's to that," he chortled, clinking his wineglass against hers. "How did the cooking go?"_

_She shrugged. "It wasn't too bad. The first few attempts boiled over. I've had warp core breaches that were less persistent at being impending disasters. Actually, I think we've had warp core breaches that left less of a mess than me in the kitchen. Still, I eventually got the hang of it."_

_He couldn't help but chuckle. "You always do."_

Miraculously, he'd polished off the entire toxic bowl. From the galley, Neelix beamed at him, and mouthed, 'I told you so.' Chakotay forced himself to smile back, a difficult task considering the leola goop seemed to have numbed the inside of his mouth. Hurriedly, he rose and replicated the captain's dinner, trying to avoid Neelix's gaze as he left in order to avoid committing an unnecessary act of violence against his unknowing poisoner.

* * *

Five chapters to go? Why do I get the sinking feeling that it won't fit? :(


	16. Watch and Learn

**Disclaimer:** VOY isn't mine. Is it yours? Can I have it? Please? I need some happiness in my life, damn it! Come on! Make the miserable cadet happy and hand over your multi-million dollar toy! I swear I'll shoot! I swea- ow...I'm dead, aren't I? It was only a water gun. Damn Paramount! Won't anyone avenge me?

**Author's Note: **Typed with hands injured and bleeding from pushups on asphalt. Forgive the delay. School and military training often get in the way...**  
**

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 16: Watch and Learn**

He felt sick. Really sick. The urge to throw up was easy enough to suppress though. The miracles of will power...yes, he was quite sure he could swallow a flaming sword without gagging right now. Well, figuratively speaking, of course...

He entered her quarters, his hands surprisingly still despite their desire to tremble. The tray was stable, and he quickly closed the distance between the door and her bedside. She seemed startled by him, and buried one hand in the covers as he came in. He eyed her suspiciously, and she threw him a lopsided grin in response. Certainly, he'd caught her with her head in the coffee pot...what was she hiding?

He replied to her dopey grin with his own dimpled one. Hey, as long as he didn't have to open his mouth, he was completely sure he wouldn't spew. Keeping that smile pasted on his face, he took the PADD out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Her expression of joy made him feel like her happiness rivaled his flickering feeling of rapture the one time she'd given him a cross between a tackle and a hug. Of course, those positive feelings were extremely short-lived due to the circumstances leading up to them, and what happened after...

That memorable event had occurred during her birthday a few years back. She'd been drunk as sin, her rum birthday cake having been spiked with something other than rum. It was amazing that it hadn't burst into flames when they'd lit the candles. The thing was basically an edible sponge soaked in alcohol and covered in frosting. The crew had been cautious about consuming it but Neelix got to the captain before Chakotay could spare her from intoxication. The Talaxian cut her a particularly large slice, and, being the celebrant, she was obliged to eat it. All of it. Every single alcoholic crumb on her plate...

It was understandable that she found it easy to scarf down the slice. The cake was good, and Neelix had restrained himself from lacing it with leola. Chakotay had only gotten a sliver of it, having seen the conception of the confection and the gratuitous amounts of liquor their morale officer had dumped into the batter.

_"It's a mild liquor, Commander," insisted Neelix. "Sugar water, really. Doesn't even have a kick. Amazed anyone could get drunk on it."_

Therein lay the problem. It was a drink that lulled one into a false sense of security by appearing mild and not betraying its true nature in its taste. Chakotay had always been cautious when it came to possibly getting drunk. He didn't like to lose control.

Sometimes he hated being right.

The pandemonium that followed was a memory he suppressed. Suffice to say, they were probably the only crew in existence to ever get drunk on cake. Thankfully, he and Tuvok remained sober. The doctor, being holographic, was also on hand to help. The image of Seven of Nine shoving assimilation tubules into the doctor's holographic neck and laughing at their lack of effect was one particular horror they had to bear witness to.

He really didn't want to dwell on the bittersweet mix of pain and pleasure that followed. All right, maybe he did.

While intoxicated, she sauntered toward him, clutching the watch he'd given her.

_"Thanks, Chakotay," she gurgled. "I love the watch. You know what else I love?"_

_She burst into a mad fit of laughter as she stabbed her index finger at him._

_"Y-"_

_The doctor pressed a detox hypo to her neck just as she fainted on Chakotay._

_The EMH shrugged. "It wasn't a sedative."_

_Visibly miffed, Chakotay bent down to pick her up. She shimmered out of his arms just as the doctor transported her to quarters. The commander didn't know why but he was quite sure he would never hate the hologram quite as much as he did at that moment._

Was it just her or could she feel the watch ticking loudly in her grasp as she held it beneath the covers? Or was it her pulse racing as he stared at her while she desperately tried to appear engrossed by the PADD?

Before she knew it, he'd grabbed beneath her sheets and taken the watch from her hidden hand. She growled. Well, at least she'd had the sense to put on underwear before he arrived. Who knew what else he might have grabbed if she hadn't? She felt her cheeks color even as she glared at him.

"Just checking on you, Captain," he said smugly even as he regretted opening his mouth. "Can't have you doing reports or-"

His stomach was doing flip-flops, shutting him up. He closed his mouth and...deep breaths.

"I can't believe you kept this," he forced out, trying to keep his disgusting dinner down with dialogue. "Thought you might have already recycled it during some crisis or other. You did recycle most of your civvies during that-"

All right, supper wasn't going to stay down. His hand came out to keep his mouth shut as he suppressed his heaving. Sadly, will power wasn't going to cut it. Watch still in hand, he bolted for her bathroom and let the leola leap out of him.

* * *

Ok, ow, ow, ow... Never thought typing could hurt. So yeah, sorry this took so long. I think my muses are off doing push-ups somewhere.


	17. Of Timepieces, Toilets and Troubles

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine. (whines) But I want it...

**Author's Note: **Contrary to popular belief, I haven't died. Just been busy...damn you, real life!

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 17: Of Timepieces, Toilets and Troubles**

Kathryn knew that worry about her first officer's condition was supposed to permeate her mind the moment he began gagging. Of course, that wasn't the case. No, her first thought, as she watched him bolt for her bathroom, was, "what the hell is he going to do with MY pocket watch?" Must've been the shock of seeing _him_ being ill for a change. The suddenness of it was startling, and she hadn't even recovered from her surprise, a consequence of his timepiece snatching, when he'd begun to heave. She certainly hoped he hadn't caught whatever she had.

To her credit, worry for him was her second immediate thought. Not that she wanted it to be. It wasn't a pleasant thought but it clung to her. She hated worrying about him. Worrying about him meant he had given her something to worry about, and that something he gave her to worry about never led to anything good. At the very least, it put her on edge for no reason because he'd been fine all along. At most...she didn't want to think about that. It was funny how being ill put her on trains of thought like this.

The closed bathroom doors made his purging barely audible, a fact for which he was infinitely thankful. No need to horrify her with _this_. She was ill enough as it was. No need to make things any worse...

But of course, things get worse whether the need for worsening is there or not.

Once he'd finally managed to pry his head from the toilet, an unavoidable good news-bad news scenario greeted him.

The good news was that he'd dropped the watch on the tile floor, safely away from the disgusting deluge he'd had the pleasure of transporting into the bowels of the ship (where it, hopefully, would be dematerialized and properly recycled to the point that it would be incapable of poisoning anything ever again; he only hoped the ship wouldn't be made ill by it) after a quick flush.

The bad news was that he'd shattered it. It didn't even resemble a watch anymore. Springs, gears, bits of glass...they were strewn all over the place. The watch's face had lost its hands. The metal casing was in good shape but everything it once held now lay in almost every direction. It must have slipped from his grasp when he'd gone for the toilet. He suspected that it had gone skating across the tile and collided with the door. That was the only explanation for how badly it had been damaged. Looked like it had exploded...he'd never suspected it of being that fragile.

He gulped, not an easy feat considering the tempest that still continued to brew in his belly. How the hell was he supposed to fix this mess? She was right outside and...

He heard a faint knocking on the bathroom door. Damn! The last thing he wanted was her exerting herself for his sake. There was a faint rasping accompanying the gentle knocks. Oh wonderful...she was wasting what little vocal ability she had regained.

"I'm fine, Kathryn!" he lied, desperately swallowing the predigested leola goop threatening yet another violent revolution against his stomach. He bent over, clutching his abdomen, falling to his knees as tears of pain began surging from his eyes. He was going to kill Neelix! If he didn't know any better, he suspected that the leola was coming alive inside him. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if some horrid monster burst from his belly any second. Hey, at least it meant he'd be able to stop-

A fresh wave of nausea seized him. Before he knew it, he was once again intimately acquainted with the mouth of Kathryn's toilet.

Still, even as he retched, he could only think of Kathryn's watch. How the hell was he going to fix it? When he was quite sure he'd completely emptied his stomach, he looked over the broken mess that was once a watch. Gingerly, he tried to pick up the pieces, wounding his hands on the shards of glass in the process. Gnashing his teeth to suppress a yelp of pain, he persisted in gathering the bits of broken watch and pocketing them, further damaging his hands.

It was stupid, what he was doing. He might as well have been trying to gather together bits of a sand sculpture.

In the end, he settled for just disposing of the mess in the toilet. Voyager's plumbing could handle almost anything you threw at it anyway. He sighed. She couldn't come in here, the floor still had the occasional stray shard of broken glass, and he knew that she habitually walked around barefoot in her quarters. Damn it, he had to think fast! Her knocking was getting louder.

Hiding the bleeding mess his hands had become behind his back, he opened the bathroom door with his foot just as she began punching at the door. Ignoring the shock in her eyes and the mild pain from her thumping him on the chest with a particularly powerful knock (he now somewhat regretted teaching her how to box) as he'd almost kicked her, he quickly sidestepped her, uttering his command code and locking her bathroom behind him. He then excused himself, promising to return in a few minutes. Once he was out of her quarters, he ran, dripping blood spatter as he made his way through the deck.

Something was up, of that she was certain. On unsteady legs, she rose from bed, grabbed and slipped on a pair of pajama bottoms, and followed him out. The hallway was empty. Damn! Slowly, she began to traverse the hall which seemed to be morphing and melting around her. Goodness, she was starting to feel dizzy. A cold caught in the Delta Quadrant was always far from mild. Flu-like symptoms had periodically struck her during the journey. Just a cold, always just a cold. That wasn't to say that each cold wasn't unique. It was foolish to think that a common malady on Earth would be the same out here. No, different pathogens produced different symptoms. She'd lost track of how many varieties of the_ common_ cold had plagued her over over the years. But this one...this one was particularly vicious. Hadn't she been recovering just awhile ago? Why was it suddenly so hot? Why was everything around her so hazy? Before she knew it, her legs gave out from beneath her. Damn the doctor and his temporary fix cures. She should have known that what little health she'd regained would slip away the moment she exerted herself.

Weakly, she attempted to rasp to the comm system, "...'puter, locate Comman-"

* * *

I started this in...well, months ago. Minor tweaks and now we have a chapter. Whew...


	18. Why Bite Your Tongue is Bad Advice

**Disclaimer:** VOY won't ever be mine, will it? :(

**Author's Note: **This chapter is basically a humorous take on the usual "Janeway looks like she's dying and Chakotay's worried sick and blaming himself for the whole mess" scenario. I know it's usually reserved for angst but I like giving things a new spin. Hopefully, I wasn't in over my head and crossing the line with this one. I like to toe the line though...**  
**

**Volatile**  
**by mistress amethyst une**

**Part 18: Why "Bite Your Tongue" is Bad Advice**

Stars? They were dripping light onto her. Dripping? Yes, precisely. The stars were fluid, glittering like water droplets against the flat black surface that towered over her. It was raining now. They began to drip, dollops of glowing yellow shooting toward her. It was beautiful. But damn it...what was with this sudden drop in temperature? The stars were engulfing her, rivers of light dripping all over her body. She didn't want this! Like angry vines, they wrapped around her, ice cold tendrils making her shiver and shake, the tremors so violent she feared her teeth would shatter from all the chattering, that she would end up biting her tongue off. Still, she was very much aware of how she glowed with droplets from the earlier light shower. She was soaked to the bone, shivering and bound. Where the hell was she?

_"Why didn't I realize it wasn't just a cold?" dramatically declared a familiar voice. "Something's been triggered inside her, and it isn't happy."_

Voices? The all too familiar scent of antiseptics wafted into her nostrils, a scent too strong too ignore. She forced herself to find the strength to open her eyes. Despite the haziness of the image that greeted her before vision was once more denied by fatigue, she knew without a doubt that she was in Sickbay. Someone was holding her hand tightly, pressing something smooth and round into her palm; a chain gently brushed against the back of her hand. Her pocket watch?

Vaguely, she recalled her last few moments in her room, how Chakotay had taken her watch then promptly gotten sick in her bathroom, how she'd knocked, how he'd run out after taking a blow from her when he'd opened the bathroom door at an inopportune moment She must have collapsed in the hall while trying to follow him. But why? This was just a cold, wasn't it? She shivered even as she sweated. Rather unceremoniously, a mouthpiece was pushed past her lips to aid with her chattering choppers. Never once did she think she'd welcome being gagged but the piece of rubber kept her from chewing off her tongue so it was a welcome relief. She'd already accidentally bitten it a few times, and she'd started to tear up in pain. This was a lot worse than a cold. She suspected that this was how snowmen felt, constantly melting yet eternally near freezing point. Of course, she had the added bonus of a mouth. Snowmen never had to worry about accidental self-cannibalism in the form of accidentally biting off their tongues and swallowing a part of themselves. A shudder of fear and disgust joined the multitude of shudders born from her malady. Damn it, she didn't like this one bit...

He didn't like it either. He was going to starve the next few weeks, not that he would care. He now had a lifetime supply of guilt to munch on anyway, thank you very much. He'd spent all his new wealth on another watch...easy come, easy go. One can only imagine the look of utter horror on his face when he'd found her lying in the corridor outside her quarters unconscious, pale as death, sweating bullets, and shaking like a leaf. He'd almost dropped the watch he'd just replicated. Of course, shock notwithstanding, he'd had the sense to pocket it before picking her up and running for the turbolift. He wondered why nobody else had come her way. Almost instantaneously, he remembered that most of the crew had taken advantage of this peaceful stretch of space to spend some well-deserved leisure time on the holodecks; most of them headed straight there after their shifts. The odds of someone walking this particular corridor of deck three were punitive.

When he'd arrived in Sickbay, panting and out of breath, he realized the full magnitude of how Kathryn made him lose all sense. Well, not all sense. Just most of it. Again, he'd had the sense to pocket the watch. Still, that didn't omit the glaring fact that he hadn't thought of getting to Sickbay via transporter. He supposed it was just the primal male in him that had taken over. Before he knew it, he'd scooped up the poor creature his beloved had been reduced to, and ran as fast as his legs, the turbolift and adrenaline could take him.

Now, as he sat by her bed, he watched as her condition stabilized. The doctor had figured out what was ailing her but Chakotay had been too distraught to listen to the nonsensical medical prattle. Something about alien bacteria originating from biomatter an away team had gathered on a recent meteor mining mission. It wasn't a particularly vindictive pathogen. Only the captain had fallen ill with it due to her lifestyle. The stress, sleep deprivation, lack of physical activity and, rather curiously, voracious caffeine intake had made her susceptible. High levels of stimulants accelerated the bacteria's growth making the captain the ideal host. With her weakened immune system and aversion for periodical check-ups to keep track of her health, she was defenseless.

The doctor had encountered the infection in a few crew members over the past few weeks but not at this advanced stage. He'd easily cured those crew members but hadn't recognized the captain's disease. It was only when Chakotay had come bursting into Sickbay like a madman, with a shaking redheaded mass resembling the stubborn creature that was usually in command of the ship in his arms, that he ran more precise tests. What he'd mistaken for a cold was something far worse, not life threatening but not something one easily recovered from if it got out of hand either. Thankfully, when the EMH figured it out, it hadn't gotten out of hand yet though she was dangling on the edge of a fingernail.

"You might very well have saved her from a permanently debilitating condition when you drugged her," remarked the EMH. "I might not have seen this until it was too late. Indeed, it almost was too late..."

Chakotay was in no mood to be patronized. All he thought of was how he'd failed to take care of her. Then again, with all the time she'd spend not talking to him after all this, he could actually schedule an afternoon with the refresher to do laundry instead of just replicating new uniforms. Ah...the joy of refreshed, torn-up shreds of crimson and black. He was quite famous for reducing uniforms to tatters by the end of the day with all the work on the side he did. Well, he was quite sure he might as well be naked on the bridge because nothing was going to cover up his shame from this little disaster. Of course, he didn't know that she might very well be inclined to pardon him for this as well as any and all past misgivings if he ever did show up on the bridge naked, that or throw him in the brig and...well, who cared? He didn't know this.

For now, his hand gripped hers, time neatly sandwiched and ticking between their clasped hands. He watched as she calmed, as the chattering ceased. Carefully, he extracted the mouthpiece. Her eyes half-open, she looked at him, mucus dripping from her nose, her face shining with sweat and tears. She admired how he didn't put up a fuss while handling the spit-covered and slightly bloody piece of rubber, how he carefully held her mouth open as the doctor regenerated the wounds on her tongue.

She decided that it was one of the most romantic things a man had ever done for her.

* * *

I hope this is still all right. I'm not sure if I could keep this light with how authors usually angst up a situation like this.


	19. Between Sickness and Health

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY isn't mine. (whines) But I want it...

**Author's Note: **Contrary to popular belief, I haven't died. Just been busy...damn you, real life!

**Volatile**  
**By mistress amethyst une**

**Part 19: Between Sickness and Health**

She was neither in her bed nor back in the captain's seat. It was a state of limbo that left much to be desired. She was unfit for duty but too fit to be bedridden. Did such dilemmas exist simply to cause her pain? She was rendered purposeless without reason, and it was enough to make her ill all over again, heaven forbid. She wasn't sick anymore so she could very well get back to her job now, thank you very much, and would he please get his ass out of her chair? But no, he insisted that she needed time to recover. So where did that leave her? Sitting in her room, brewing in her misery because her replicator wouldn't brew anything for her. Did she mention that he'd bribed their chief engineer into somehow programming every replicator on board into insubordination? None of the useless machines would give her the coffee she so desperately needed to kick his ass out of her seat. Instead, each and every glorified toaster persisted in saying that it did not recognize her newly-restored voice whenever she ordered that particular beverage. Tea? Sure. Milk? Be my guest. Blood wine? Feel free to have as many pints as you want. But coffee? The stupid things refused her that one comfort.

She wondered about this unofficial silly sexless marriage of convenience. She hadn't sworn to be with him in sickness and in health but that had been the case, hadn't it? Until now. She was between sickness and health. Was there a loophole in that particular part of the marriage vow? Take care of her while she's ill, be with her when she's well, leave her to her own maddening devices when she's caught in between. Well, whether that was the case or not, she was sure of one thing: this was the loneliest she'd ever been in a long time.

Not that she resented him. He had to do both his duties and hers, catch up with the work he'd neglected while tending to her...

Who was she kidding? She resented him. She resented him for taking her place instead of sitting next to her, for not giving her the time of day ever since she'd gotten well enough to get by without him.

Well, that wasn't exactly true.

She couldn't get by without him right now, could she? Seeing as the two of them were apart at the moment, she was slowly slipping into insanity. Or was this feeling simply induced by caffeine deprivation? No, she hadn't been deprived of caffeine. She'd tried using highly-caffeinated tea as a substitute and that just made her both wide awake and irritable. Caffeine wasn't the problem. Not having her kind of caffeine was the problem. Not having company while she recoiled from being unable to satisfy her addiction was the problem.

She sighed. At least when she was ill, she wasn't this painfully aware of how alone she was, how she needed the warm comforting presence of something. Solid or liquid? She suppressed a chuckle. He wouldn't fit in a mug but he was certainly better than any coffee substitute Neelix had ever made.

The chime rang and she had to restrain herself from jumping out of her seat. Still, the empty mug she'd occasionally taken in her hands as some form of therapy was swiftly elbowed, knocked off the table and quietly fell on the carpeted floor. Thank heavens for lightweight spaceage replicated material. The thing didn't so much as clatter as it hit the carpet, just rolled around emptily, abandoned for the one who awaited her at the door.

She was quickly disappointed by the face grinning down at her when the door swished open.

"You don't look too happy to see me, Captain," joked Paris with mock disappointment. "The reports you wanted me to sneak in here?"

He handed her a PADD and winked conspiratorially. "Remember, you didn't get that from me."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, Tom. He won't even let me do petty paper pushing."

"Well, feel free to do mine if it'll make you feel any better. But again, you didn't get that from me."

"This never happened, Paris."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Captain," he smirked. "By the way, you might find something interesting attached to that PADD."

He winked once more and left with the swagger of one of those early twentieth century detectives from those black and white films he adored so much. She chuckled again as the doors closed. She'd made the arrangements with Tom the day she'd been declared healthy enough to leave sickbay. It was nice to know that she could rely on him when it came to sneaking behind Chakotay's back.

Now that he was gone, she perused the PADD's contents with unabashed enthusiasm. The figures, statistics and reports would have been a bore any other day but they were all the excitement she craved today. Strange. There were no attachments here. What had he meant? She shrugged and remembered how Tom almost always used an unorthodox way of thinking when it came to these things. Upon flipping the PADD over, she found a thin silver packet taped to the bottom along with a small handwritten note. She'd seen Tom's handwriting on one other memorable occassion. This untidy scrawl was definitely the same Harry had shown her vandalizing his music sheets for his clarinet roughly six years ago. She almost laughed aloud when she read the tirade about the many other uses Harry could find for the instrument.

_1. Trade it in for a horn so Neelix can have a decent cornucopia as a centerpiece..._

This time around, the messy script consisted of only three words:

_Just add water._

What was this? Knowing Tom, she couldn't help but face his gift with suspicion. Was it even a gift? She tried to remember if she'd slighted him of late but couldn't think of anything. Well, what harm would it do to add water to whatever was in this packet? She had no idea what it could be but it surely couldn't be dangerous.

She picked up the mug she had dropped and walked over to her chair. Tearing the packet open, she poured a fine dark brown powder into the mug. Even without bringing it for closer inspection, she immediately recognized what it was was by its scent. It was just like Tom to send her a novelty like this. Coffee powder...

As she got herself some hot water, she made a mental note to send Tom some of her extra rations. It seemed her helmsman valued her peace of mind more than her first officer.

"Excellent pre-emptive strike, Paris," she thought, smiling to herself. He definitely wouldn't be a casualty next time one of her moods rolled around.

* * *

Hope that was good enough for now. I'm still stuck for UD but I will get to it. Lita and Polomare, sorry for being out of touch! Please e-mail me if you want. Polomare, still up to be beta? Lita, still want the rest?


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